My son (who's nearly ten) ran to me in a panic - "Where's my $5 bill?" He had left it in his shorts the previous day. At that moment, the shorts were flipping around in the dryer. He stopped the machine and fished out the shorts, stuck a hand in one of its pockets and revealed a damp, crumpled bill. We dried it off with an iron. Then, without a word, he headed out the front door. I followed - curious as to what he was up to.

He glanced up and down the street, and then marched back into the house, went into his room and brought out a fold-up chair, which he placed in the entrance to our driveway. He informed me he was waiting for the ice cream truck to come by. He hung a whistle around his neck so he could signal the ice cream truck driver not to miss our house. He plopped himself down in the chair and patiently awaited the truck. Well....he tried to be patient. "Do you think it comes on Tuesdays?" he asked me. "Can you hear my whistle?" He blew it a few times as a test run. "What time is it?" I responded with, "I don't know, yes, and 1:30."

I grabbed a notebook and a pen and sat on a wrought-iron chair in front of our house, observing my son. I figured since my pc was down (thanks so much, Gateway), I would have to write long-hand. And maybe there'd be something to write about today...maybe even about my son.

Birds alighted on the jacaranda and birch trees on either side of my son. They joined him in the anticipated visit. Butterflies and white moths fluttered about in their own search for treats.

My son took a break from his wait - went to the fridge for a drink, then quickly returned to his solitary post. Fifteen minutes went by - no ice cream truck. "Mom - what time is it now?"

He started swinging his whistle around, tapping it to the chair, fidgeting a bit, trying to find something to keep him busy. He tried new ways of blowing his whistle, "Mom - look!" A smile brightened up his face as he proudly found a new hand-mouth technique.

He retold the story he saw on a television show which had to do with an ice cream truck. In the show the truck had the words "EYE SCREAM" painted on it. (Live and you learn something new each day, I wrote in my notebook.)

A pigeon swooped down on a tree branch near him. "Wow, I've never seen pigeons here before!" The air was filled with chirping birds coming to feed from our hanging gazebo bird-feeder.

Neighbors drove by. A stranger to our street drove up, parked his car while scraping his tires on the sidewalk. Teenagers across the street gathered for a pool party. My son deligently sat in wait for the holy truck. "Mom, what time is it?" I answered, "Almost two." He remarked, "Yesterday the truck was here around two." I can see his patience wearing thin, but he felt it would certainly come by soon.

"Mommy, I'm going to the bathroom. Call me if the truck comes by." I assured him that I would let him know in a flash. In he went leaving me sitting outside alone, save for the fold-up chair, as if it was waiting for anyone to come along and take a load off their weary feet. Silence; no familiar tinkling ice cream truck music could be heard.

Spanish-speaking nannies walked by with babies in wagons and buggies. I reached for my bag of potato chips. My son returned to his chair. "Listen to this." He moved the back of his chair back and forth so it made a clanging noise. I chuckled to myself and wondered how much time my determined son would sit there. Would he give up during the next half hour? Or, hold out no matter how long it took? What if this was the truck's day off? I chomped down more chips and recalled my youth when I waited out in front of my house for the ice cream truck to come. The song the truck played still sticks in my memory. Sometimes that truck was the highlight of a dull day.

"Hey Mom, know what I want to get from the ice cream truck? A snow cone. On TV when the ice cream truck ran out of real snow cones, the guy gave the kids ice cubes in a real cone." I thought my son was getting nervous that by the time the truck arrived it would be already stripped bare of all goodies. My son reassuredly said, "He should be here because it's a very hot day today."

He related the details of his desperate attempts to catch the ice cream truck after it sped by our house the other day. He never quite caught up with it, even though he was racing towards it on roller blades.

He suddenly dashed into the house to hide from a kid who was walking his dog across the street. My son confided, "That kid is strange." He waited behind the door until the other boy had passed our house. "Why don't you read your book as you wait?" I suggested. That idea went over like a lead balloon.

He had returned to his chair for just about one full minute when he inquired, "I was sort of wondering that if the ice cream truck doesn't come by, can we drive to the park so I can get a snow cone? It's been so long since I've had one. Can I get two, so I have one for later?" I think he was ready to abandon his post. "Yes, dear, you may get two," I smiled.

Forty-five minutes passed and no truck. The truck must have a strange schedule...unpredictable. I admited to him that I was ready to take him to the park. "Okay, let's go - c'mon," he urged me to move. The chair was folded up and carted back into the house. I put my chips and notebook away for the time-being. We headed for the park in my car. I sure hoped the truck was at the park!

EPILOGUE: Success! Two snow cones with a gumball at the bottom makes for one satisfied kid. We returned home from the park and would you believe it - out came the fold-up chair once again. My son sat down on it eating his snow cone, maybe as if to say to the invisible ice cream truck, "See, I got it, anyway." I returned to my writing tablet and chips. Ahhh.....these hot, challenging, summer days.