Thursday, March 7, 2013

Trash Day.

The sound on this video is terrible - you can't really hear Ellie, just me and the noise of the trash truck. So I'd advise watching it on mute, or with the volume really low.

Ellie's delight at the trash truck kills me every time. And between our house and Grizz's house (sorry, Gigi's house, as she would have you know) there are two fabulous days a week that she gets to run up and down the street, dancing for joy.

When I'm having a crabby day, I sometimes imagine being the garbage collector. You sit in your car, use the robotic arm, and get waved at by kids throughout the neighborhood. Except when their moms come outside and shake their fists at you for being too loud and cutting a nap short (to which I say, the trash truck comes at almost the same time every week, perhaps it's time to change your kid's nap time.)

Last night as we were talking before bed time, I told Ellie that today was a going to preschool day. She informed me that she was going to cry, and cry she did at drop off. But when I came back for pick up, she was sitting in one of the little chairs, happily eating her lunch. Someone else's little angel was busily screaming his head off instead. Of course, the second Ellie caught sight of me, she burst into tears, but then she also told me she didn't want to go home. I think we're all going to survive! And learn! And thrive!

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