Detour TOWARD the Construction Zone
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| Photo by Martin Burns |
As we sat (and sat...) on the one-lane, under-construction road, at a poorly-timed spotlight, forEVER, I began to chill out when I heard the following from the backseat:
"Look at the dirt!" "Big piles of dirt!" "Look at that truck!" "The truck is smashing the dirt!"
We finally turned the corner, carefully, around some barricades that have migrated halfway into the driving lane. I was crawling along, which turned out to be a huge thrill for my two-year-old. On the right was a torn-up road with a huge pile of gravel about to be distributed. On the left was the big construction site, with several sizes of cranes, some giant holes in the ground, and every conceivable sort of construction vehicle. The exclamations from the back seat continued.
"Look at that crane! Look at that really big crane! Look at that yellow truck! And that yellow truck! That truck is digging in the dirt. I like digging in the dirt. I want to dig in the dirt at home." "Look! Another truck! A dump truck! It's red."
On and on he went, talking about the dirt, the rocks, the trucks, the cranes. He was in heaven, and we never even had to unbuckle the car seat. We sat at a stop light, commented about yet another stretch of road construction, and a new set of trucks.
And then, the inevitable happened: no more construction zone.
"I want to go see more trucks."
Because I'm not actually vying for some sort of "fun mommy of the year" award, I chose not to turn around and experience it all again. But we did have a lively lunchtime discussion about cranes and dump trucks.
And when he wakes up from his nap this afternoon, I'm anticipating his comment, "Remember the big trucks smashing the dirt?"
