Do I Have What it Takes for Garbage Day?

My two-year old daughter loves garbage trucks. She gets excited when we see them in our travels around town, but nothing compares to garbage day at our house, when these magnificent machines come barreling down the street.

This is cute, right?

We live on a corner, which means there are four different garbage truck routes. And since there are two trucks per house -- garbage trucks and the alternating green waste and recycling trucks -- no less than eight times a day, each and every Monday, a garbage truck goes by and must be honored with her adoration and fervor.

She is not satisfied by merely running to the window and looking at them. We have a little routine. She hears the trucks down the street, comes running to me screaming "GARGH CHUCK, GARGH CHUCK" with arms outstretched, and I must grab her in my arms, run to the front door and out onto the sidewalk so that she can wave madly at the driver. As the truck drives away, she says "BYE BYE CHUCK!" She is ridiculously happy when we do this.

Still cute, no?

OK, it's cute, but EIGHT TIMES A DAY??? It gets tedious, this dropping everything and running out the front door. God forbid we are a couple seconds late, and she cannot wave like a crazed groupie. I can't hide during a truck's passing; I've tried, but it gets ugly and the price is just too high. I have been known to get out of the house early, to get those errands done and skip the whole experience. But that doesn't work during summer, with a house full of sleeping kids.

So here it is, Monday morning, and I am thinking about putting on some really loud music to drown out the local celebrity trucks. That would have to be some pretty loud music, and I'd have to keep it on for hours. Hmmmm. A possibility.

I know I'll miss this when she outgrows it. For now? Just getting myself prepared for the gleeful mayhem that is garbage day at the Alatorre house.

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