"Robin, with his little hands on his hips, asked, 'Can you make me the boss of the ice cream man?'
He explained that every day when the ice cream truck comes through his neighborhood, some of his friends don't have enough money for ice cream. He said that he feels very fortunate that his mother makes sure that he does have enough money for ice cream—but that eight quarters is a lot of money for ice cream.
He always tells his friends, 'When I grow up, I am going to be boss of the ice cream man and make him give everyone ice cream!'
Instead of asking for something like a dream vacation, or the chance to meet his favorite celebrity, Robin's number one wish was to give something to those less fortunate than him.
On a beautiful spring day, Robin got his wish. The Make-A-Wish Foundation outfitted him with a cap proclaiming him 'Ice Cream Man' and put him behind the counter of a neighborhood ice cream truck. All day long Robin rode around with a big grin on his face, asking his friends, 'Whaddya want?'
And because of his generous wish, all of Robin's friends got ice cream that day."
"At precisely 10:55 a.m., with the motorcade a mere five minutes away from arrival, I decided to head outside so that at least I would be there to see him arrive. Instead, I saw the entire wait staff assembled in line in the front foyer. I pushed through the front door and went outside to find my GM, the executive chef, and many more servers lined up on the sidewalk. Secret Service personnel hovered all around.
‘You just missed him,’ said Chef.
‘What?’ I cried. ‘He’s not due for another five minutes!’
‘No, you missed the real President. He just drove by in his motorcade.’
‘Are you serious?’ I laughed.
‘Oh yeah, he thought we were all lined up to see him. He even waved to us. And all we thought was, ‘Nah, not you! We’re waiting for the OTHER President, our President!’
‘Right, ’cause we can see him anytime!’ I said.
And we all broke down laughing that hysterical, almost-crying laughter that is so hard to get under control.
Then we heard the sirens. Seconds later, a parade of cars made their way up the street as the stoplights held on red. Tourists flocked to the sidewalks, cameras at the ready. Who was coming? Must be someone really important, they whispered to one another.
The six-car motorcade pulled up–multiple SUVs, several sedans, and the President’s stretch limo. The security detail scanned the crowed, the pool press photographer readied her camera, and out stepped the President, so tiny for his eight years, with his best friend Stephen, and his parents and baby brother behind him."*
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