I live with a 7 year old boy who has been in love with trains since just before he could speak. He couldn’t say “train,” but he dutifully carried around a wooden train in each hand everywhere he went. God forbid that he should be without a train. I always had a backup close by, just in case. It’s the secret to potty training him. I used trains as a form of coercion. Or bribery. Whatever. As he sat on his little potty, I waved a train that he coveted in front of him. If you poop on the potty, I’ll give you Old Slow Coach! And it worked. He freaking bared down and produced the required payment for that train. Right there. Right then.
Everything that we do or say in this family is seen through the lens of the love of trains. Whenever I see a train going by on a track, I want to yell, “TRAIN!!!” to no one in particular. I just get really excited. That would never have happened if it weren’t for my son’s enthusiasm. It’s contagious.
We call him a trainiac. I say he’s locomotivated. We plan family outings to train museums both locally and afar. We have been to every Thomas’ Day Out within a 100 mile radius. We have spent more money than I am willing to admit on trains, tracks, and accessories. I even have a stash of trains that I have collected to give to my son when he is older. Collectibles. Unopened boxes of his favorite trains and even some older than him that he doesn’t even know exist.
I know a lot about trains. I know a lot about Thomas the Train. A lot. I wish Jeopardy had a category on this. I’d amaze you with my knowledge. I’d win that shit.
In the spirit of all things train, I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit off track lately. I’ve had boiler ache. I can’t shunt the trucks like I used to. I ran out of steam. I parked myself at the train yard. And I just stopped. Stopped exercising. Eating right. Sleeping well. Giving a shit. I got really, really off track. Derailed.
I think I’m getting back on. At least I am aware that I need to and I am working on it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?
Hi, I’m Kim and I don’t give a shit.
As I type this, I have a plate of apples and carrots beside me. It’s a start. Except, I want chocolate cake. I better get this train out of the station. Time to go for a walk.