I Want to Live in a Train

Taking care of our grand kids full time has been a blessing to be sure. Having said that, it has also dumped a large dose of reality on my head. You know that old saying, "you're not as young as you used to be"? Well, I now understand the full meaning of that. It's not just a youthful body and energy that is in short supply. Not that I'm ancient either, not by a long shot. I'm just not that young. I'm hesitating at the depot where seniors board the express train to assisted living. Every once in awhile I catch myself glancing at the one way ticket to my golden years. I am not ready to climb aboard just yet. Instead, we play on the platform of the depot, juggling toddler activities and standing clear of the tracks. The lack of physical energy is something I have been able to work around. Most definitely because my husband is as much on duty as I am. We work in a tag team fashion with these little ones. What I have the most trouble with is brain atrophy. When you don't use a language it leaves you. I have had to work at relearning "toddlerese". That variable language that must be mastered in order to facilitate successful communication with kids. At first, we went back to basics and resorted to hand signals. The kids would try to explain something to me and would express frustration with shoulder shrugging and open hands held high, heads cocked to the side. It makes me laugh to think how easy everything would be if I could just toss a treat into thier mouths and quell the constant requests that sometimes resembles the yipping of puppies. Luckily my brain is beginning to pull a Sponge Bob. For those of you who do not know what that means, allow me to explain. Sponge Bob is a yellow sponge, cartoon character that wears square pants and lives in a pineapple under the sea. Now, doesn't that make sense? Of course it does! My mind has begun to reabsorb how to converse with toddlers just like a sponge absorbs water. I just have to soak a bit longer than our small yellow friend. I must admit my husband is catching on faster and has mastered the art of joking with Mark. They trade jokes regularly and most often end up laughing their heads off around something poop related. I guess it is an inherent male quality that sticks with a boy and follows him straight into adulthood. That would explain my husbands instant success. (He didn't have to work for it, I'm not sure I count that as a victory).

Yesterday, my grandson Mark kept saying he wanted to live in a train. At the age of four he has fixated on Thomas The Tank Engine and Friends. I love how he includes the "and friends" part every time he speaks of Thomas.
Which is a lot and often! He loves Thomas. He carries at least two trains on his person at all times. They accompany him to the bathroom regularly. He parks them on the sink, facing him while he takes care of business. I have all I can do to stop him from grabbing them before a completed hand washing . I can now sing the Thomas song with him on demand. This makes him very happy. Also, it has been brought to my attention that Thomas and Friends live on the island of Sodor. They are really useful engines and quite helpful.Although, they do express a myriad of emotions and Thomas is often "cheeky" but that only serves to make him more endearing to my grandson. Mark has educated me on the actual workings of coal engines. I was corrected recently when I told him to connect his trains. "Me mere, they don't connect, they couple", he corrected. Silly me, ofcourse trains couple, that is elementary. It became clear to me that I had to become as interested in trains as he, in order to appease the great train obsession. Still, I wondered how to deal with his growing desire to live in a train. He repeatedly announced that he really, really wanted to live in a train. Someone finally turned up the lantern in my head a notch and illuminated the real issue. The guy resembled Tom Hanks in the Polar Express. I faintly heard him ask, "may I see your ticket"? That movie is the second most favorite thing in the world to Mark. We have watched it more times than I can count. It was carefully pried out of Mark's white knuckled grasp last week to be saved for next Christmas, thank goodness!

My grandchildren are moving to a new apartment in a couple of weeks. Due to circumstances beyond anyones control they have moved often in the last year. At least three times, this will be the fourth. Thankfully, they will still be close by. Until a suitable preschool is found for them we will continue to babysit them full time. Mark has decided that he doesn't want to move again. I can't say that I blame him. His solution to live in a train makes perfect sense to me. Thomas never lets him down. Thomas always helps his friends out and is cheerful with just a touch of mischieviousness. He's young, adventurous and he lives on a small, self sufficient island. Nothing ever changes on that island. I think Mark would like his surroundings to stop changing as well.

In the afternoon, I put baby sister Layla down for a nap. I filled up our free time with the great train experiment. I explained that we were going to make a pretend train house to live in. I grabbed the dining room chairs and arranged them just so. I pulled out my pink Snuggie and draped it over the high back chairs. I allowed a pint sized opening for a doorway. It was christened, "Marks New Train House". He immediately took up residence. I told him he would get to choose who can come into his house. He also had the responsibility of furnishing it. He scurried around gathering trains, crayons, coloring books, juice cup and Teddy Grahams. Then he played in his new house for over an hour, talking to his trains. "Don't worry Thomas, we will still live together in the new apartment and in this train house, too", I overheard him say. My son Andrew approached the train house and requested entrance. A strapping twenty five year old man, who takes advantage of every opportunity to play little boy games again. I think had Mark answered Andrew in the affirmative the whole train house would have run off the tracks. Mark said, "sorry uncle, this is just for me". "No problem buddy", Andrew answered and winked at me as he left island.

I heard Mark call me shortly before Layla woke from her nap. "Me mere, come here". I love that little singsong quality his voice has. I approached the island and answered, "I'm here what do you need"? Imitating to the best of my ability the cadence of Marks request. I was touched to the core when he said, "you, I want you to come in here and live in my train house with me". Sometimes it is an honor to be brought to your knees. I combat crawled my way in to that tiny house. We snuggled up for a few minutes and he lay his head on my shoulder. "This is a real train house Me mere, you made it for me, I really like it". "I love you, you're my best friend", he finished and finally took a breath. Just then we heard Layla calling from the upstairs bedroom. Her Pep ere ran up to get her. He loves that aspect of this job. The part where he scoops her up from the crib and she snuggles into his neck and then just sits quietly on his lap, hugging him and patting his face. As Mark heard Pep ere coming down the stairs with his little sister he almost pushed me out the tiny opening. I had to catch the edges of the Snuggie to prevent him from bringing down the house. "Go get Layla Me mere, go get her because I want her to live in here with me too", his words sped out of his mouth like a train shooting out of a tunnel. I could almost here the warning bell as the arm lowers across the tracks when a train is coming. Something big was about to happen in the train house. His body language changed and he was no longer at ease. Ding, ding, ding, ding this train was about to leave the station and I was forced to get out of the way. I watched him throw some of the less important objects out of his house. The coloring books and crayons flew. The empty juice cup and Teddy Grahams were soon to follow. All that remained was the trains and Mark, who by this time had scooched over to one side of his train house, creating an empty space. He had made room for his baby sister. It was such a beautiful gesture. It was the perfect ending to our great train experiment. I couldn't swallow for almost a half hour. All of my emotions welled up and stuck in my throat like a large lump of coal that fuels the engines Mark loves so well.

Joyfully, Layla entered the train house on the island of Sodor in our dining room. She joined her brother and they played extremely well for almost ten minutes. Her small hands eventually started to tug at the weak foundation and it began to make Mark anxious. Pep ere stepped in and diverted her attention with Sesame Street while I finished dinner. I wanted Mark to enjoy the last moments of his train house fantasy before it completely ran out of fuel. I imagined the train whistle fading out as it traveled away from us as all trains eventually will. Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo. "Come on Mark, Layla time for dinner" I announced, imagining myself a conductor of sorts. Conducting the hopes, dreams and wishes of my grandchildren and making as much of them possible through play may be all I have to work with. The only thing I am sure of today, is that for a little while, Mark lived in his train house on an island. Everything was just the way he imagined it should be. At his request, the train house remains fully functional and ready for occupancy on Monday next. The magic may be gone by then but hopefully the memory will chug along forever.