Police and Popsicles
During Graziella’s house call to Ettore yesterday, I was pretty sure she seconded my opinion that sugar isn’t always bad—especially for a sick toddler. How many of us grew up drinking 7-Up or Ginger Ale when we were sick? Today, Elena confirmed that I understood her correctly. I’ve been at a loss as to how I might help. My Nurse Mom practices are a far cry from what’s usually done here. After holding and rocking baby Matteo through this morning’s chaos, which included Ettore not eating or drinking, I offered to go in search of popsicles. They were not at CRAI, or at the frozen treat bin at the tabaccherie en route, so I continued on down to—you guessed it—Decò. Along the way, one of the cart vendors had their loudspeaker going. I’ve been trying to get a video clip of this daily occurrence, but they either round out of sight or, as today, they stop for someone just as I have my video setting ready. Future goals, I guess. Walking down Viale dei Fiori, I noticed three “Polizia Locale” sp