“Ice cream! Ice cream!”
She kept up the litany to a regular beat. She must have been three, maybe four, just short of her daddy’s waist. The father, clearly embarrassed, tried to walk the fine line between being firm and making a scene. The little one had no such compulsions. Reluctantly, he reached in to his wallet and handed her the money. Taking it, she crossed the street to the ice-cream vendor. The little imp took her time choosing the ingredients for her treat. She carefully considered and either discarded or selected each item. She finished with a cherry on top.
Grabbing the delicious treat, she called to him, “Look daddy”. With the ice-cream coned held high, she stepped on to the road not noticing the truck hurtling towards her.
After the ambulance and the police and the on-lookers were gone, all that was left was a crushed ice-cream cone.