Day Twenty-Eight::September Third, Two Thousand and Nine.

DUDE. Today I got ice cream from the ice cream truck for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE. Albeit, it was a snow cone, not actual ice cream. But it was SO worth it. It had never been a part of my lack of childhood. When I was little the ice cream truck came to our neighborhood at like ten o'clock at night. It's a principle of parents to never let children twelve and under to have ice cream/sugar at that ungodly hour of night for fear of bouncing-off-the-walls syndrome. As I grew up though, I learned my mother's real fear. It's called the pervert-mobile and that's all she could hear when the little jingle came near. So no ice cream fo' you.
This monumental occasion came as a result of Mrs. Pullen. She watched as I looked longingly at the truck drive away and as I expressed my want for the experience of the ice cream truck. So do you know what she did? She drove me to the ice cream truck and bought me some. Go Mrs. Pullen. Another thing crossed off of my "Best If Used By Death" list.