Okay, I was frustrated. I admit it. But just how do you explain this to two young daughters, ages four and six? And just what was the this I had to explain? I shall tell you presently.
It was the i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m truck!
Yep, that's right, the damnable ice cream truck. That brightly colored automobile that prowls the neighborhood, projecting those sickly-sounding jingles that hypnotize all children, transforming them into divided egos alternating between wimpy whiners and demanding dementors, causing them to beg and cajole for cash to exchange for tooth-decaying, body-rotting, life-destroying pseudo-food!
