Though Ollie still points to the mailman and says, “Da Da” and sometimes calls the neighbors dog, “Ma Ma” he is 100% accurate in regard to naming vehicles. He calls a truck a truck and a bus a bus. He knows what wheels are and he makes, “Vrooom!” sounds as he pushes his Matchbox toys around.
But it’s actually Monster Trucks he loves more than anything in the world. When he sees wheels the size of small planets he goes absolutely ape shit. Foam spittle begins collecting at the corners of his mouth and his hands start sweating profusely. When he first did this, I honestly thought he was having a seizure. Then I realized his rabid state was simply due to him spotting a toy truck from across the room.
I guess I’m not surprised my son is obsessed with Monster Trucks. As a child I had an infatuation with the World Wrestling Federation and I feel like the two “sports” are like inbred cousins. Bigfoot is to Hulk Hogan as Grave Digger is to Andre the Giant. Despite my parents attempts to mold their daughter into a cultured little Renaissance Woman with ballet and piano lessons, I still gravitated to watching sweaty men in uni-tards body slam one another.
So just like my dad took me to see Wrestlemania at the Erie Civic Center back in the 80s, I believe it’s only a few years before I purchase tickets for the whole family to see Monster Jam.