His first word was 'car'. He loved cars. Such excellent smash-ability, so lovely to roll along the wooden floor with a chunky little face laying right alongside, examining how it drove from every angle. He loved them fast and in slow motion, moving forwards and backing up. And the sound effects. He had quite the repertoire of car sounds, from zooming to pa-pa-pa-ing, not to mention all these sounds in slo-mo. A particular favourite of mine was the crash and roll symphony, when his big blue eyes would squint in concentration, his lips cover in dribble with those extended impact (p-hoo!), roll (pff-ha! pff-hoo!) and fade out (fwooooo) sounds. Long before there were words, there was the world of cars.
He collected them in a woven basket that he carried around in the crook of one arm, pouring them out when the time and place suited, then scooping them back up to take along to the next place. There were racers, dragsters, New York cabs, and his best and favourite character cars - the ones from Cars (the movie). He had Lightening McQueen, Flo and Ramone, Chick Hicks, Doc...and his number one, all time favourite in the world without contest, the great Hudson Hornet. That car and his chubby little hands with pudgy fingers and dimpled knuckles, were almost permanently stuck together. "Hu'ss'n Hornet" had to be alongside him at breakfast, riding shotgun in the pram, heading down the slide first at the playground, and tucked up in the cot for nap, always within arms reach.
We were watching some old footage of the kids the other day, and there he was in all his two-year-old glory, begging, "Mum! Cars, mum! Cars!" Friday night is pizza and family movie night in our household, and tonight we (by which I mean me) decided we were going to watch Cars. The original.
I can recite almost every word. That scene where Radiator Springs regains it's former glory is nothing sort of magic. The kids have only snippets - only pieces of memory from this movie that was such an obsession for a time. Our guy remembered the scene with the tractor cows farting, unsurprisingly.
And here I now sit, writing as the sound of metal cars smashing together at the wiry hands of our son once again fills the air, as he bounces on the couch in anticipation of the final race result. It's too exciting...I've got to watch...though of course, I've seen it before.
