The ice cream truck is back in action and is circling my neighborhood.  I fucking hate the ice cream truck, and the man driving it. The second my daughter hears the ice cream truck chimes, she starts going into some sort of toddler rage, like the Hulk. Her face becomes a different color, her clothes appear to tear away from her body. “I want ice cream!!! I want ice cream!!!” How am I supposed to fight the Hulk? Does the ice cream man want to fight the Hulk?

As much as I try to anticipate when the ice cream truck is coming down the block and as much as I try and occupy and distract her, my little girl’s bionic ears never fail.  The Hulk is coming. And I can’t stop it from happening. Keep me in your prayers at 6 pm. Every single night. For the entire summer.