The jingle of doom

I know the exact time the ice cream man makes his loop around our cul-da-sac. Just after 2:00 every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday the jingle from the truck fills our home, so does the sound of Josie crying and Hailey getting angry. For the last three years, that jingle has been a reminder that the kids are different. It not only reminds me, it reminds them as well. Having Dysphagia means they can't run out to the ice cream truck on a hot day like all the other kids. That is, until this year.

A few weeks ago we heard the ice cream truck coming down the street and both Josie and Hailey reacted as they usually do. Hailey said "It isn't fair. Why can't they carry ice cream that we can eat?" That sparked something in me. She was right, why couldn't they carry ice cream for my kids?

After a few phone calls, I was able to get a hold of the man that owns the ice cream truck on base. We talked for some time and he finally agreed to keep ice cream for the kids as long as I provided it. No biggie. I did say that we would basically pay him rent in his freezer. I want the kids to have a normal experience with buying ice cream, which includes giving the man money.

I spent hours and hours searching for the perfect recipe. I didn't want it to be too boring for the girls, or too different tasting for Teague and they all had to be the same. I went with a caramel frozen custard. I did add some xanthan gum to make sure that when it thaws it is still thick enough.

Today, at 2:07, after 3 years of tears every time the truck drove by, my kids got to buy ice cream from the ice cream man.

 It was rainy and cold, but it was still the perfect day for ice cream.