“Gotta go, gotta go to ice cream island, ice cream island,” sings my three-year-old granddaughter. She holds her Magic Mic against her lips. Her words are garbled, but I get the gist. And the sudden craving for ice cream.
Anyone who has children or grandchildren should own a Magic Mic. For less than five dollars, it echoes your voice, and comes in handy when you want to attempt to harmonize with songs on the radio (without knowing the actual words of the particular song or even the tune). Your children will find this particularly annoying, especially if they are over the age of ten and have friends in the car. I had to put my Magic Mic away for years, until my granddaughter arrived. Now, I travel with two.
Ava is still singing. I try to harmonize, but she lowers her pitch to match mine. They more we sing about ice cream island, the more I want to go. Now. Chocolate ice cream with marshmallow and peanut butter sauce is calling my name. Yum!
The singing stops. Ava has a look of deep concentration on her face. “Grandma, where are my wings?”
Wings? “What wings?” I ask.
“My wings. Where did you put them?” says Ava.
Ahh . . . maybe the elusive Snickle has her wings. Darn dragon.“Why do you need wings?” I prod.
“Decuz, I need to fly with the Pegasus and the dragon . . . up, up, up in the sky.” She points at the window. “I need to go now.”
“Oh . . . What do your wings look like?” Maybe if I have a visual?
“They are blue and berry, berry big!” She opens her arms wide to show me for comparison. “Grandma, GRANDMA, we gots to find them!”
I promise to conduct a full search after our library visit. We will need a flashlight, the dog, our magnifier, Norman, a bag of pretzels, a thermos of apple juice, our suntan lotion, Uni, and our lucky hats.
“Thank you Grandma, thank you berry much,” says Ava, hugging Uni. She begins to sing again. “Gotta go, gotta go to ice cream island, ice cream island.”
If anyone knows a shortcut to this island, let me know.