Wednesday mornings are very special in our house.
The front door is thrown open at first light and a weekly vigil begins.
Breakfast is eaten in record time on Wednesdays and morning-routine-compliance is not an issue with 'bin truck privileges' at stake!
Wednesday is bin truck day for us.
As in "Mum, the BIN TRUCK, the BIN TRUCK Mum!!!!"
|We would normally head out and say hello, |
but the 'Lazy Song' was working it's magic
today and Mummy was in a state of undress.
The bin truck is a premier event at our place and so much anticipated.
Much like the Greensleeves touting ice cream truck of my childhood, the bin truck's approach is deceiving.
Screams of "bin truck, bin truck. Mum, bin truck coooooming!!" are usually followed by long periods of pretty much nothing but hanging at the front door.
You can hear that sucker a suburb away.
The 'bin truck man' holds high status in our house.
Ever since we gifted the 'bin truck man' a sixer of beer for Christmas,
Magoo has wanted to repeat that gifting every week.
I appreciate effective waste management with the added benefit of toddler entertainment as much as any other Mum,
but I also pay that mammoth rates bill, thank you.
Being incredibly gender stereotypical here,
but is the bin truck to Magoo,
what fairies and princesses are to his little girl friends?
And, woah, today was recycling day.
"TWO bin trucks, Mum!!!"
"Nother BIN TRUCK here!!"
Every second Wednesday is double delight, the two for one show.
Happy bin truck day to you.