Something appears to be slowing up the line at the ice cream truck. Why, it's Susan's mom, flirting with the ice cream man so intensely that her body is actually undulating. The ice cream man, in addition to ice creaming, also teaches salsa at the community center, and, he adds with a leer, he teaches private lessons. Mom giggles, annoyingly oblivious to the long line of ice-cream-deprived kids squirming behind her. Susan jumps up from the hang-out bench and pulls her in-heat mother away. "Please do not flirt with the ice cream man," she scolds. "Why not?" Mom wonders. "Do you need a reason beyond the fact that he's the ice cream man?" Susan is kind of a snob. Other than a pancake-restaurant man, I can think of nothing better than having an ice cream man as a suitor. Susan can't believe how little her mother is mourning the end of her relationship with Morty. Mom thinks Susan is a stick in the mud, in need of some nightclubbing and some "hot guys." I'm trying to imagine my mother saying this to me, but I just can't, thankfully. "I'll say I'm 42," Mom glees, "and you can be 28." Susan shoots her an incredulous look. "Come on, you can pull it off," her mom says to Susan encouragingly. Zing!