Touch-A-Truck (or not)

This past Sunday afternoon a fleet of fire and police emergency vehicles, construction trucks, and assorted 18-wheelers descended on Newton South High School's parking lot for Newton's annual "Touch-a-truck" event. In theory this is a great idea--collect a ton of machines in one location, put them in park and hide the keys, and then let a bunch of 2-7 year-olds trample through them.

And, in fact, a lot of kids were running around the place like they had found Eden. Toddlers eagerly jumped in and out of police cars, and parents delighted in taking photos of their little ones perched on top of giant rubber wheels. Everyone was having a great time--except for my little guy.

Looks like we picked the wrong shirt for him.

Turns out that while Andres eagerly awaits the trash truck and the recycling truck (yes, he knows they are different!) each Friday, and while he waves at buses at every opportunity, and while he runs outside to watch the commuter rail pass by at least once a day, he gets easily overwhelmed when too many vehicles are in one place. And I can hardly blame him--the parking lot was packed and there were loud noises everywhere.

So there he was, hands over ears for the better part of an hour, not having any fun. Poor guy. Not even his friends could entice him to hop into a truck--not Taibaby, not Madison, not any of the triplets (all of whom were having a grand ol' time, mind you). I think Celia may have had a better time. She was quite content to hang out in her stroller and the noise didn't seem to bother her at all.

A rare moment where both hands were away from his ears.

We wandered around looking at trucks until it started to get cold and people started to get hungry. Just before we left Andres did actually touch a truck, but I was too slow to get a photo of it...he literally stuck out one finger and brushed it against the metal scoop of a construction digger before turning to me and saying, "Daddy I touched a truck." Evident in his voice was the following request: "Please don't ask me to touch any more."

As we trudged back towards our car at the end of a very unfulfilling hour, I asked Andres if he had a good time. "I did!" he said. Go figure.