Shoo, Ice Cream man! No bodder me!

This a dual-purposed post. I'm combining my dislike for our local ice cream truck entrepreneurs and my sassy Pink Baby's new phrase vocabulary.

A friend recently asked me what the PB's word count was at. I really have no idea. 100, 1,000? I'm not trying to talk up how smart my kid is, I am merely trying to paint a picture of my daily word intake, why my brain is almost always mushy, and why I may not return your phone calls, like ever. Too Many Words.

The PB is a sass and a half (a sassy senorita as Kendra would call it) and is constantly telling us where something is, or isn't ("[Oldest] not in his room." [middlest] es over der") like a dang play-by-play you didn't ask for. I love it and it makes me want to squish her up but 3 talkie-talkertons x's seven million words a day makes me a little nuts. Her current phrases include, No Way!, No! Jose!, Shoo fly, no bodder me, Get OUT!, Holy Cow!, and a version of the ABC's that almost sounds like one long word and gets hung up on W. (QRSsssTUVeeee, W....w...w..w..W!)

Part two:

The ice cream truck duel. One is bright yellow and is driven by a nice Latina. It has an alien eating an ice-pop painted on the side and is by all accounts, the type of truck I occasionally let my kids buy from. It isn't scary and I really doubt she'd sell any popsicles laden with staples or razor blades.

The other is, well the type that we steer clear of. I'm sure the person at the wheel is a nice gentleman but I'm not giving my kids the chance to find out. The reason isn't that he's scary. It's the scary song he blasts by mega phone that keeps us indoors. I wish I could record it but I'll do my best to re-create it here:

It's a music-only version of "Oh Susanna" with a hose whinny added in for effect. "Oh Susanna, oh don't you cry for me, {NEIGH, SNORT} I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.{WHINEEEEEEE, clomp clomp}"

It repeats over and over until your kids are so confused, they forget the dollar and run outside with a rodeo hat, chaps and a carrot. A carrot ain't going to buy you a Sponge bob Popsicle with black gum eyes. No sir.

My sister's mother-in-law (got that?) used to tell her kids that the ice cream man turns on his music when he's out of ice cream. :) I'm thinking of telling mine that horse sounds coming from an ice cream truck mean that a horse is in there eating all the ice cream and you better stay back because he'll nip at you too. I'm setting them up for therapy later on, aren't I?

"Don't worry Mom,

when I say that he's stupid, it's not bad. I only mean that he's like really dumb and like, not smart like me."


Oh good, I thought we were going to have that talk about humility again.