May 21, 2012
My husband is a truck driver. He delivers bulk items for a beverage company in our town. So as you can imagine many of our evening conversations center on where he was today, what he saw, what he delivered and new products on his truck. He also talks about an ongoing competition he has on FourSquare with a woman from Pennsylvania. He is constantly trying to oust her as mayor of the places on his routes.
Enthralling stuff. ;) (In his defense, my work stories are even more boring.)
My husband loves his job and this has not gone unnoticed by Izzy. She often points out trucks on the road, asking what they deliver. This question can be sort of challenging when we come upon a pest control truck with rats and roaches plastered all over it. When she asked why that truck delivers bugs I replied, "Well, it's not so much that they deliver the bugs. It's more like they deliver the bugs to heaven."
She seemed satisfied with that answer while I asked myself "What the hell is wrong with me?".
Over the weekend we saw this truck:
"Look mommy! That truck delivers butterflies!"
I stopped myself from correcting her. I smiled as I reminisced about my childhood literal interpretations of the world around me.
I remember when I was a child I took everything so literally — which only fed my rampant imagination. I remember riding the school bus and seeing a yellow sign in the neighborhood that said "Watch Children". From that day forward I stared anxiously out the window as we rode down the street waiting for clock-faced children to appear.
They never did.
Or the time someone described little blonde-hair, fair-skinned me as tow headed. I rushed to the bathroom every morning for weeks to look in the mirror and ensure that my head had not in fact turned into a toe overnight.
My head is still perfectly round and pie shaped. I'm undecided if this is the better scenario.
If you had told me it was raining cats and dogs you would have found me gazing at the window and silently wishing for a smashed-face persian cat with long, luxurious locks to which I would affix endless amounts of silky, pink ribbons.
Also, unicorns are totally real. I saw Legend. I know what's up.
So when Izzy went on to tell me that she would like us to buy a truck, put our names on it, a picture of a butterfly and deliver pink, blue and purple butterflies, I considered the possibility. Izzy explained that I would be the driver (because daddy already has a job driving and he can't work two jobs. But that 'he's still our families. he's just busy.') and that she would deliver all the pink butterflies door to door.
For a moment I let my inner child set about cultivating a business plan for butterfly home delivery. Perhaps we'd have a “frequent flyer” program to encourage repeat business?