My three-year old son loves vacuums. He loves talking about them, looking at them, and of course - cleaning with them! One of his favorite activities is going to our local vacuum store, where the owner truly appreciates my son's special interest. We watch as my son moves from vacuum to vacuum - each one more wondrous than the next. "I love vacuums," he says. "Aren't they beautiful?" "Yes, they are," I answer, nodding appreciatively.
A few days ago we journeyed out to Rockville to visit their local vacuum store. My one-year old
daughter crawled happily around the store, touching the brightly colored machines.
"Va-cuum, say Va-cuum," he said slowly to her. She gurgled back.
As I watched them, trying to suppress laughter, I imagined what this little scene could look like to an outside - like some perverse 1950s brainwashing tactic - my son trying to get his little sister to say the word "vacuum!"
We left the store with many promises to return - and the owner expressing his excitement to someday hand the family business over to such a vacuum aficianado.
Who knew that I would spending my afternoons in a vacuum store?
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