I scream, you scream

Meredith gets picked up from school at 12:45 after lunch. This first week she has been pretty tired each afternoon, and yet hasn't really taken much of a nap because her mind is processing so much. She's pretty excited.

Today was a constant battle to get her to settle down just for a little bit. She was obviously tired and cranky. I told her she was running the risk of missing out on the planned marshmallow roast tonight because she'll be too tired and have to go to bed. I told her later that it was no longer a risk, but a near certainty. That approach had minimal success.

Mid-way through the afternoon she had been silent for a while when I heard the dreaded music of the ice cream truck. I was in Elaine's room changing her diaper. Suddenly, a hear the floor rumble from a jump in Meredith's room. Then,

[door] creeeeeeeeeee-ak---BAM!
[feet] thump!thump!thump!thump!thump!thump!

A flash goes past me down the hall and down the stairs.

I call Meredith to come back. She is surprised I saw or heard the one-girl stampede. She wants ice cream. Not today. But she WANTS ice cream. No, not today.

I explain that we don't get ice cream or anything else every time and just because she wants it. She understands but was clearly hoping for a different answer that involved some sort of capitulation. (Meredith is an optimist.)

In a few weeks, we will no longer undergo the daily assault of the ice cream truck music. The truck drives the neighborhood kids into a tizzy. The ice cream is pretty gross too. I made the mistake of taking a bite of one character-shaped ice cream on a stick monstrosity. Never again.

I'm not a fan of Minnesota winters. One good thing I can say is that I don't hear ice cream truck music at all between October and April. The silence is golden.