Garbage Truck Love

Ian, you are a funny little guy. Saying you love garbage trucks, is an extreme understatement.

On your second birthday, you received your very first garbage truck. It was orange, made different noises at the push of a button, had headlights, even a dome light that turned on when you opened the cab doors, it had a lever that made a trash barrel lift up and empty trash into the hopper, and came with its very own driver. You played with this toy nonstop, you still do.



Your fascination with garbage trucks grew exponentially. Wednesdays and Saturdays evolved around when the trash and recycling would be picked up. You looked out the windows forlornly, waiting for that magical vehicle to come down the street. It seems when we least expected it, we would feel those all too familiar rumblings. We would look at each other and yell, "The garbage truck's coming!" I would only see the blur of your image as you ran to the window.

Some days, we would stand outside and watch as the garbage truck emptied every trash barrel on our street. The driver would usually wave at us. Sometimes, he would honk the horn, or better yet, make the hopper go up into the air. Neighbors would come outside to say hello, and you would talk their ears off about the garbage truck.

"The garbage truck picks up the trash barrel. Trash barrel go upside down. Trash go into the hopper. Trash barrel go on the sidewalk." Over and over again you would inform us, until we would repeat it back to you.

Your obsession was so cute, I made up a garbage truck song to sing to you at bedtime to help you settle down.

Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.
Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.

It drove around the block,
and it picked up the trash barrel,
and lifted it up
into the air upside down.

Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.
Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.

Then the trash fell out
of the trash barrel,
and went into
the hopper.

Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.
Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.

Then the garbage truck
put the trash barrel
back onto
the sidewalk.

Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.
Beep, beep, says the garbage truck, beep, beep.

Your obsession was obvious as we drove about town. You could spot any and all garbage trucks long before the rest of us. "Mommy, mommy, there's a garbage truck (usually adding in whatever color the vehicle happened to be)!"

You also pointed out EVERY trash barrel. "Mommy, daddy, is the garbage truck going to pick up that blue (or other color) trash barrel?"


Not surprisingly, one of your favorite books, is I STINK! by Kate and Jim McMullan. And of course, one of your favorite DVDs to watch over and over again, is about garbage trucks and trash collection. I have to admit, both are quite good, and all the adults in this household are much more knowledgeable about the world of solid waste.

Adoring family members have noted your obsession, and have bought gifts accordingly. You currently own a fleet of seven garbage trucks, two of which have residences at the grandparents' houses. You love each and every one of them. I frequently find you lining them up in a perfectly straight row, or find you lying between two of them with their music blasting into your ears. "Garbage trucks in stereo!" you shout out.

The green garbage truck you received last Christmas Eve.

The second orange garbage truck you received Christmas Day.

Of course, it's not enough to play with garbage trucks, you also like to pretend you are a garbage truck. Throughout the day, you rumble through the house finding objects to pick up like trash barrels. You make various engine noises and use your arms to hoist the object up and over your head. If you discover a cup or a bucket along the way, it is soon filled with smaller items that get dumped up over your head and behind your back.

You've even taught your baby sister how to sign garbage truck, something your father and I never thought to do. Now, when she sees or hears the garbage truck, she sweeps her arms up, over and behind her head, telling us, "Garbage truck!" She smiles and cheers when we recognize it and say the word out loud for her. Thank you, Ian for teaching her that.

The blue garbage truck you received today.

Ah, yes, my dear Ian, you do LOVE garbage trucks!