Noah loves cars.

Loves them.

He is, quite simply, a car head.

Like his father - who can identify the type of car at night by the shape of the headlights. (Scary but true).

Noah identifies each and every person by the kind of car they drive and addresses them accordingly…

He doesn’t know the type (yet) but he has named each vehicle and has matched them to their owner, with the tender loving care that only a car head can muster.

Gran’s coming? He’ll see her in “Lola” (the Corolla).

Dad’s going to work “In Roach” (Black Ford somethingsmallandbeetlelike) and he’ll see him later with keys in hand, which are really, Noah’s keys, don’t you know.

Grandma’s up for a visit and she’s here “in Silver” (a silver Toyota Avalon) Consequently, pop also has a “Silver”. (A silver Ford Falcon).

Tracey’s car - “redtruck”

Mary’s car - “busnotmummy’s”

My car’s “name’s Bus“.

His sister’s plastic means of transport? “Pink“, of course.

The name he has coined for his very own red and yellow magnificent piece of plastic vehicular pleasure is “Rocket“.

The other day he discovered that ‘Grampa’ has a motorbike (you have to say it really fast …”merterbike” - you know, like the bike itself) and it is all we have heard about ever since.

“Grampasgotameterbikegrampasgotameterbikegrampasgotameterbike”!!!!!!

When people arrive at the house, most of the kids announce their arrival by name.

Not Noah, he is excited by the arrival of their car.

When he is talking on the phone, he doesn’t farewell the receiver with just a “see you later”, or even a “see you on such and such a day”.

No.

It’s “I’ll see you later in (insert name of car here)”.

Like Pavlov’s dog.

The thought of your car has him salivating.

Yep.

My son is a carhead.