Trash Day

Trash day is Friday.  Both kids, their whole respective lives, bolt for the front window whenever a "trashman" is within earshot (when R2 was a baby, she would wake up from her nap when the truck came by.  Drove me crazy!).  They drop everything they're doing and practically break the panes as they launch themselves onto the window sill and press their cute little noses against the glass to see where he is.  There's one driver who has a huge cardboard cutout of Chewbacca sitting on the passenger side.  Another one always smiles and waves at the kids.  One day, we sat outside on the porch watching all the action.   The smiley one saw us, so he signaled us to watch for something a little extra special:  he did some tricks with the big trash claw and one of our trash bins.  My babies were delighted!  Sounds all rosy, doesn't it?  (I said sounds, not smells.)

This year R2 and C2 both have school on Friday.  Every Friday, as R2 is watching the trash truck go by, she asks me, "Is today a school day mom?"  "Yes," I remind her.  "I don't like going to school on trash day."  At first, I assumed it was because she didn't want to miss the "trashman."  Obtuse of me.  I finally just asked her, and she told me she was afraid of the truck.  Aha!   (I didn't bother to ask why.  I assumed, obtusely again, noise was the issue.)  So now when she says it, I tell her we'll get in the car to go when there's no truck on the street, and I remind her that it's not trash day at school.  That seems to work. 

Last Friday, I was running some last minute trash out to the bin.  Both kids insisted on coming with me.  They followed me in and out of the door a couple of times.  The last time, R2 didn't come, and C2 didn't come out the door on my heels, as usual.   There was a garbage truck coming along the street, of course.  When I went in the house and closed the door, R2 told me that she just told her baby brother that it was "dangerous for him to go out there because he was so little that the trashman wouldn't see him and would scoop him up and dump him in the back with the trash!"  

This is the face I imagine she'd have used if she were being mischievous telling him that--I call it the "Watch out for the giant claw, buuuaaah!" face :  

But I'm certain she was genuinely worried about his welfare.  So this is more the face I envision she had on--her real and angelic face:

I think I know the root of her fear now.  But it didn't stop me from wanting to laugh out loud.  I only raised my eyebrows.