While I was in the kitchen last night, cooking up a fresh batch of bacon for dinner, I heard the faint sound of carousel music. And then I started thinking, did the association put a carousel in? That’s nice. We need a little sprucing up in our neighbrohood. A heard of fiberglass horses is just the thing! But, I feel like that’s something that I would have noticed them putting it in. Perhaps it was the time I laid in bed all day because I had nothing clean to wear, and I read Pottery Barn catalogues while Berlyn read something about a hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton.
Then, I heard the noise again, but it sounded closer. HOT DOG! IT”S A MOBILE CAROUSEL! How cool is that? You can suck it surrounding neighborhoods! We have a mobile carousel! And NO, we will NOT let you ride it. No reason really, I’m just feeling stingy and oddly possessive over the fact that we have a mobile carousel.
With enthusiasm in my step, I grabbed for the door, and flung it open to check out our new attraction. It was dark outside, so I had to squint a bit, but I did not see a mobile carousel, I saw an ice cream truck. LAME. Now I feel gypped. What am I going to hold over the other neighborhood’s head so ours feels vastly superior? An ice cream truck? Boo!
Okay, wait a minute. What is an ice cream truck doing at 6:30? It’s dark out, and mommies are cooking fresh stacks of bacon for their families. I can hardly imagine parents handing their precious Billy a wad of cash and permission to buy a cool, delicious treat. “Here you go Billy. Here’s 5 bucks. Mommy wants a blue foot with a pink gumball in the middle, I want a Big Stick, and you get whatever you want. And when you’re finished with your ice cream, we’re going to have cotton candy for dinner. And afterwards ride the mobile carousel. I heard that the next neighborhood over has one!”