The Droughte of March, Or Truckin’

This time of year always makes me wax Chaucerian/TS Eliotish.

I pretty much hate March.  This year has been particularly hard, what with the ten zillion pounds of snow, teaching in a testing grade for the first time, and, oh a series of earthquakes that make me secretly wonder if my dad’s house in southern New Mexico is about to become beachfront property, and when, exactly should I relocate the family there?

This is all to say that I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in over a month.  Although I think it must be a first for me.

Also, I don’t have much to say.

I do want to share with you a new development with my youngest son, in relation to his bloggity nickname — Trucker.  Trucker is obsessed — OBSESSED — with trucks.  We live in an apartment facing the expressway.  We can hear the expressway pretty much all the time.  When Trucker hears a truck, he gets a panicky/excited look on his face, drops what he is doing, and leaps up onto his step stool by the window to see the truck.  He hears a truck about every two-and-a-half minutes.  Once he gets to the window, he points and yells “Wuh! Wuh! Wuh!”  He has recently learned to say “bus”  (actually “buh! buh! buh!”) and “taxi,”  which he actually says right out.  All this has made me grateful indeed for the window guards the city forced us to install.  But it has also made me wonder why the Truckman is so into trucks.  Cakie showed no real interest in thingsthatgo until he was old enough to have peers who liked to play cars.  And even then, he wasn’t ever obsessed.  Cakie liked butterflies and music. He loved the color pink (in spite of my own dislike of the color) and playing restaurant with his play kitchen and his wooden pizza and plastic food.  I fancied myself a fine example of a dyke-mom who was raising a beyond-the-stereo-types boy.  It must be me, right?

Then along came Trucker.  You know what else?  He loves, I mean, LOVES football.  Let me state for the record that nobody in this house watches football.  We own a football, but we are far from fans.  Trucker will throw a football around, acting like a quarterback.  He doesn’t talk a great deal yet, but if he has a football in his hands, he’ll make babble that sounds pretty much like, “24, 33, 18 — hite hite hite!”  Then he’ll throw the ball.  I will say that is was made quite clear on the donor profile that the dude loves football.  So is it genetics?  Or is it the fact that Trucker has a big brother?  Because of said big brother, there is actually a football and trucks in the house.  Whereas when Cakie was little, he had a whole lot of musical instruments and cooking toys?

Oh, Trucker likes to make monster noises.  He’s been doing it for months.  He loves to growl.

It is all, of course, supercute.

Of course, I love both boys for who they are and how they act.  Trucker’s monster noises and NFL dreams (oye) are just as wonderful to me as Cakie’s wooden picnics on his bedroom floor.

I have to say that I wonder about this at least once a day.

Here’s Trucker, doing what I lovingly refer to as Truckin’.



Filed under blogitty blog blog, Trucker

3 responses to “The Droughte of March, Or Truckin’

  1. This fascinates me, too. How much is Beckett’s ballet love a product of my own stage motherness and wishes for a ballet child? But we have trains and balls and trucks and he chooses pink and tutus and princeresses. So… is it just him? I wonder this constantly.

  2. sn

    i like when you blog. such parallel cuteness…s says “amadou!” (= i monster) and puts blankets over her face. sometimes she’s a carey madou. and i have to laugh and eat her up.

  3. Carey madou! She’s so carey.

    Truck just growls and furrows his eyebrows very serious-like. Sometimes he talks in a monster voice. But since he doesn’t really speak much English, it sounds like he’s speaking carey madou language.

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