Monster Mash

For a four-year old obsessed with yellow cabs, New York is an amazing place to be.  

But for a 19-month old obsessed with trucks, Alabama is heaven.

Fletcher digs trucks – the bigger the better.  He loves to sit in the driveway and yell at them:

“LUCK!  LUCK!”

Pretty sure the neighbors think we’re rednecks.

But he’s my baby, and it makes him happy.  And that’s why I jumped on a free four-pack of tickets to a Monster Truck show.

Yep.  We were headed straight into the heart of darkness.  And deafness.

Now, I knew that those big engines would be loud, but I had no idea that they’d be louder than my dad's snoring.

As we walked in, several kids were coming out.  In tears.

Even kids with huge noise-canceling headphones were bawling.

So, some $30 later, we had three sets of earplugs and one ridiculous pair of protective headphones in the shape of monster truck tires.

Fletch was absolutely adorable in those things, but after 60 seconds or so he burst into tears.  Turns out the headphones were squishing his head like a grape.

And so the dream of seeing ridiculously large trucks came to an end for Fletcher Clay Adams.  As badly as he wanted to see those trucks – “LUCK!  LUCK,” he continued to cry – there was no way we could take him in there.

Clay took Fletch outside, Olivia inherited the tire ‘phones, and we found our really great seats.

Too bad the show was so boring. 

The first truck we saw got stuck in the mud.  (Yawn.)

The next several trucks spent what seemed like an excessive amount of time getting lined up so they could do a nice big jump.  (Sigh.)

Then double jumps.  (Zzzz.)

Enough.  Clay called me and gave me the hook.  Too cold outside.

Livvie – bummed about missing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle truck – reluctantly followed me out of the arena. 

And there stood Fletcher, red-cheeked and happy.  He’d spent the evening running up and down the wheelchair ramp, screaming “LUCK!” every time he heard an engine roar.

That smile was totally worth the price of admission.