CHAPTER 1

“What kinda ice cream flavor would you like, young lady?” the old man said, smiling at the adorable little Monica from his ice cream truck.

It was a beautiful summer morning. The sun had risen over the Philadelphia suburb a short while ago and was now coloring the trees and houses with a golden glimmer. Monica, who had turned six yesterday, was out on the street alone, wearing her fancy pink dress and white sneakers. She was trying out her new green bike which she had gotten as a present.

While she had been riding up and down the empty road in front of her parents’ house, where both were still sleeping, an old-fashioned red ice cream truck pulled up and parked next to the curb.

The vendor, an old man looking a bit like Santa Claus’s twin brother with white hair and a long white beard, rang a bell. The lovely sound, together with the huge picture of a cone filled with delicious scoops of ice cream, had caused Monica to steer her bike right up to the red truck.

Now, she was standing in front of all the boxes containing the most amazingly sweet flavors of her favorite concept of food. Super yummy, soft ice cream.

“So, what kinda ice cream flavor would you like?” the old man asked again. “Let me guess, you are a strawberry-meets-chocolate-taste-kinda gal?”

“Hmm,” Monica sighed. She was overwhelmed by all the many flavors she was contemplating on this small counter. There seemed to be an infinite number.

The single,one-is-all flavors, presented the simple joys of