The Legacy Continues in a Dubious Fashion

Yes, that's a trash truck.  This is what our daughter chose as her Christmas random day in late December present.  A fucking trash truck.  I will admit that it's pretty cool.  I mean, it comes with a trash guy (who's cross-eyed, btw) and a minature replica of a tall, rolling trash bin.  It even has a battery-powered arm that picks up the trashcan, raises it and dumps the contents in to the back of truck just like its real-world counterpart.  About the only thing it's missing is the disgusting stench of rotting garbage juice [which I think will be successfully replicated after a couple more weeks of toddler abuse]. 

Granted, Tonka makes some good stuff.  I remember my big-ass Tonka dump truck I kept for many years.  It carried my paralyzed Spiderman around on many missions for months after I accidentally melted said superhero's legs by leaving him on top of my lamp's light bulb for an afternoon.  It hauled my Army Men collection through the backyard to the catshit-laden "sandbox" my dad cheaply thriftily threw together using an old tire and a wheel barrel full of Georgia red dirt.  It survived my many BB Gun attacks.  It was even a good sport when, in an apparent fit of brilliance, I decided to see if [after a nice push] it could make it across our busy street unscathed.  He failed.  But, dammit!, that sumbitch tried.

Yeah, they're good toys from my experience.  I can only hope my daughter gets as much enjoyment out of hers.  You don't know how weird it felt to type that.  Seriously.  That was weird.