Daddy has conditioned me to the ring of the ice cream truck like a Pavlov dog. Every weekday, as dinner time concludes, my spider senses can detect the approaching ice cream truck coming down our street. The ringing bell off in the distance always prompts me to yell "Ice Cream Truck!", as I run towards the window to see it drive by. It's uncontrollable. 
On the rare day we happen to be outside, I can usually convince mommy and daddy to buy me something.
On this beautiful evening, I was able to score a Dora bar. Her DVDs are not only fun to watch, but her ice cream bars are fun to eat too.
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