I begrudgingly admit that there are some really great things not living in LA. This friday Tasha, Kelly, Zach and I headed out for some ice cream after Sweet Baby Max went down for the night (or for the next two hours as the case was.)
We headed out to Jimmy Cone where Zach and the girls had been going since they were little kids. It's just one stand with two flavors; chocolate and vanilla, and a line as long TKTS in Times Square. There are two picnic tables on the side by the road where about 15 seven to eight year old girls fresh from their softball game incessantly screamed "Honk your horn!" to every single car that drove by. And I do mean every single car. Now, before I had a baby I would have been annoyed, but now I thought what an asshole you are if you don't honk your horn! This is a Jimmy Cone tradition. There is always a softball/baseball/basketball team of kids having their post game treat and screaming. And the residents know it, and they damn well better honk. And 99% of them do, eliciting squeels of delight from the kids.
As we were waiting patiently to get our cones I just looked around at all the kids being, well, KIDS. Kids climbing on the steel poles holding the awning up, little brothers of the softball team running around testing mommies boundaries...you could see the little smirk on their faces "how close can I get to the parking lot before Mommy yells" It was really good for the heart to see children safe and free enough to be kids. And while some teenagers rolled their eyes at the noisy little ones, I am certain that just a few years ago too they were racing their friends to the top of the poles or screaming "honk your horn" and practically peeing with excitement when you get an actual big truck to obey you! At one point an abulance came by and turned the siren on, for one moment the children were terrified, then once they realized it was for them...an extra sepcial horn, they just freaked out. Hannah Montana three years ago freak out. It was just, well, heartwarming.
I could picture Max climbing the poles there, and yelling after his T-ball game and I could imagine him at age three running towards the parking lot with that little smirk on his face, testing me to see how far he could get.
That's what is appealing about living away from LA.
Soon enough the girls headed home and were replaced by a boys team. A little older maybe 9-11 years old. And even while one team left and another came in there was never a lapse in the battle cry "Honk your horn!"
I wonder where life will lead us, will we truly head back to LA? I want to go home with everything that I have. But then I think of a warm Friday night at Jimmy Cone and Max and his friends yelling at cars and it gets me thinking.
Maybe just maybe there is somewhere near LA where a magical place like Jimmy Cone exists...