The backhoe guy story...
There's been construction going on around my house all summer. Trucks, blasting, the whole nine. I go jogging every morning at 6:15 and I pass the site as a haul my carcass around. I see the same guys and the same trucks each day so as the polite Canadian girl I am, I greet them. It's just a "hi" or a smile and on Fridays it's a cheery "have a good weekend!".
On the first day of school I jogged as usual and said hi the the guys I've started to call "my boys". Dumptruck Boy, Foreman Boy and Stop/Yield Sign Boy are the ones that I see daily. When I took Audrey to the schoolbus, I saw Backhoe Boy for the second time that day and I waved again.
Yesterday after my run he drove by and actually stopped the backhoe in the road to talk to me. We've never exchanged words before. This is the way it went:
Backhoe Boy: Hey! Did you marry a white dude? **I'm serious... that's exactly what he said**
Me: Uh. Yes...
BB: Your daughter is really light but she looks just like you. And she's got your exact shape.
Me (not too sure how to take the shape comment): Er, thanks.
BB: She's got great hair, too.
Now cars are starting to back up behind him
Me: Thanks... it is pretty crazy.
BB: I hope she's proud of it. It'd be really sad if she was embarrassed by it.
Praying the truck would please for the love of God get moving
Me: She tells me it makes her feel special... oh look, cars!
BB: Oop, gotta go!
And off he rumbled.
I told the story to Audrey when I got home and we had a good laugh about it. When she got home from school she said that Backhoe Boy waved at her in the morning and she waved back. I love my neighbourhood.
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