Neither Bill nor I are passionately interested in the precise name of every kind of construction vehicle known to man..
Or every four-wheeled vehicle, for that matter.
But Landon is.
He requests the same vehicle book with such persistent regularity, that I sometimes hide it to spare myself yet another boring rendition of it. There's only so much energy I can infuse into, "Excavator! Dump truck! Cement mixer! Oh look! A combine harvester...how about that?"
But he truly loves vehicles. When we drive around, Landon is all eyes looking for vehicles to identify for me. From the back seat comes a steady patter of, "Bus! White truck! Digger! Van!"
And Landon truly loves mail. He loves trying to fit the key in our box, and grabbing the goodies inside. He loves carting the postcards around saying, "mice, mice" (mine) He likes to pretend to read them and then wants me to prop them on the mantel with other special cards. He likes sifting through the shoebox of postcards we have collected from our postcard trading hobby.
Landon can spot a mail truck like a safari guide can find big game. From startling distances he'll begin calling out, "Mail truck! Mail truck!" and I have to focus on my driving instead of peering three lanes over at opposite traffic to find what he has seen.
So when the mail truck turned up at OUR house, with the mailmen having a little pow-wow near it, I knew it was a moment we couldn't miss.
And then he couldn't stop talking about it for the next three minutes when we drove away.
Letters. Truck. Mailmen. House. Letters. Truck. Mail truck.
It was, indeed, a grand moment for my little vehicle and mail enthusiast.