The Garbage Truck

The fearless Evan has found something that terrifies him.  It’s not bugs, rats, or trucks.  Well, ok, he doesn’t want to touch snakes, and he’s scared that Papi will drop him when Papi holds him by one hand up in the air.  But Evan doesn’t run with fear from these things.  He actually taunts Papi.  No, the thing that makes him run and hide is the graveling noise of the garbage truck.  Thankfully in Arizona we only get two, rather than three garbage trucks to pick up trash as we had in Orange County.

 

Nothing scares Evan more than that huge truck.  The minute he hears it he runs straight into the house and under the bed. 

 

Imagine his panic as we were out collecting the mail from the collective mailboxes when he heard that enormous growling noise from down the street.  He knew it was trash day because he helped me place the cans out, but he must have assumed we would be home, safe and protected, before those machines came tearing down the road.

 

His face turned white as he looked around for a place to hide.  We were a street and a half from home as he stared at the wagon, calculating our chances at getting home before they came.  Realizing we wouldn’t make it, he ran across the grassy knoll, up the gravel hill, to hide behind sharp spiny bushes.  If I hadn’t seen where he ran, I would have lost him. 

 

I listened to the sound, determining that the truck was a block away at least twenty minute from our position.  I coaxed Evan from his hiding place and into the wagon.  After chasing Sean down and placing him in front of his brother, I started for the walk home as Evan urged me in all desperation to hurry.  Let’s go home, Mommy. Let’s go home, Mommy. Let’s go.  Go, go, go.

We arrived safe at home.  Evan jumped out of the moving wagon to run at full speed up the driveway, through the garage, into the house, through the kitchen, into the office to be protected by Daddy.  When we needed to leave for our errand, twenty minutes later, I had to coax Evan out of the house, who demanded to wait until the garbage truck left.

 

Fine.  But no bringing home spiders or scorpions.  EVER.

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5 Responses to “The Garbage Truck”

  1. tlc Says:

    awww, poor little guy. I know what that’s like…for us, it’s the fire whistle. Hopefully it’s a phase they will outgrow quickly.

  2. KathyB! Says:

    In his defense, they are kind of scary! Loud, noisy, pick things up and shake them and then slam them to the ground… Sounds like a monster to me!!

  3. Ink Says:

    I agree…monsterlike indeed! Poor kiddo!

  4. Gibby Says:

    Awww, poor guy! I used to love watching the garbage truck when I was little. Don’t know why. My dad teases me about it all the time.

    My oldest hated any type of truck that went down the street, but she used to be very sensitive to loud noises. Now she’s just…sensitive. LOL!

    There is a song on one of those Little People CDs that I could never get it out of my head once I heard it…the garbage truck is here, the garbage truck is here, I see the sanitation worker standing in the rear! (OK, now it’s stuck.)

  5. faemom Says:

    tlc~ Oh, dear, the fire whistle. Eeek. Better you than me because we used to live down the street from a fire station. Let’s drink to a quick end to the phases.
    KathyB!~ I should be more sympathetic, but it’s just so funny.
    Ink~ Again, I know. I’m not nearly sympathetic enough.
    Gibby~ My brothers and I always thought they were neat too. And thank you for subjecting yourself to that song just so you can share it 🙂


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