Yesterday was trash day and the trash truck came while Eric was eating lunch. It comes down our street doing the other side, passes us, turns around (after a few other tiny streets) and comes back up the block doing out side. When Eric heard the truck, he said in a rather panicked little voice "All done! Mommy all done watch trash truck! Mommy! Trash truck mommy!" I rushed to unbuckle him and get him down the stairs. We saw the truck passing by, so I said we'd sit on the stairs and wait for it to come around. He wasn't satisfied with this and wanted the door open, so we put jackets on (it was about 20 degrees outside) and waited on the front steps. We had a mini-lesson on "it's hard to wait, isn't it?" while the truck took forever to pick up all the trash from a down-the-block neighbor's, but then were rewarded with it visiting our house. Ah, the simple pleasures of childhood.