Tires and Tractors and Dirt – Oh, My!
This morning I awoke early, showered and dressed, gave my one-year-old son, Benjamin, his morning bottle, and then headed to the local Discount Tire store. With a banana and his new favorite strawberry yogurt puffs in tow, he didn’t mind the morning’s playtime interruption. Seems we picked up a screw in one of our tires last weekend, and though my husband was able to pull it out and thought it had not punctured through, the low-tire-pressure indicator light was cause for concern.
I’m not sure what I expected during our brief visit to the tire shop. My primary concern consisted of keeping Ben entertained and contentedly occupied. Never did I expect his reaction upon entering the showroom. It was as if he heard a silent Hallelujah chorus. The magnificent display of shiny wheels and hefty tires was nearly overwhelming to him. He shrieked with joy and excitedly vocalized his utter delight in baby gibberish, all the while peppering his speech with thunderous “DA-DAs.”
We walked through the entire showroom, Ben gleefully pounding on each tire and thoughtfully inspecting each of the shiny wheels. After a thorough examination of the showroom’s stock, the workmen in the garage proved equally as fascinating. Benjamin stood on the observation ledge, securely in position with my arms supporting him, and watched the men at work, his little hands and nose pressed against the glass.
Now if I thought wheels, tires, and the garage were exciting, the construction site next door nearly sent him over the edge. A live tractor violently tore through the earth, creating enormous piles of black dirt within yards of the shop’s glass windows. A safety fence separated us from the action, so we stepped outside for a closer view. The noise was deafening, and Ben watched, mesmerized by scene before us. We kept surveillance for some time while Ben enjoyed a morning snack, his little hands absent-mindedly reaching into the zip-lock baggie to extract fistfuls of yogurt puffs.
Sadly for Ben, our little adventure soon came to an end. When the pleasant young man in uniform returned my keys and Ben and I headed for the door, Ben expressed his unhappiness. He cried big tears as I buckled him into the car seat and we continued our morning errands. My attempts to soothe him were futile for quite some time. Tires and tractors and dirt! Oh, my!