The last train has long since left the station here at the Crap Shack but, in his younger years, my son was all about trains...
* * * * * * * * *
The first seven years of little
Vladimir’s life were filled with his dreams of becoming a train
engineer.* For about five years he wore the same outfit every day…
OshKosh overalls in a tasteful blue and white stripe, along with a matching
striped engineer’s hat. For Halloween he would dress it up with a red
bandana. (No cute little pumpkin outfits for Vladimir!)
This suited Vladimir’s dad and I just
fine. We gratefully bypassed the current popular culture icons such
as Mutant Ninja Turtles and Power Rangers. We felt it was far
superior to go with the classic childhood toys. Our house became
filled with trains of all sorts… Brio, HO, N-Gauge, G-Gauge, Lionel, Duplo,
Playmobil, Lego... and more. The Little General became one of our favorite
movies and Thomas the Tank Engine’s best
friends became ours as well. My creative contribution was to craft
stuffed cloth Annie & Clarabel train cars to go with the stuffed Thomas the
Tank Engine that Vladimir took to bed each night (in lieu of the traditional
stuffed animal.) Vladimir’s dad spent hours in the basement workshop, creating
new additions for the collection… tiny wooden train sets, additional wooden
track for the Brios, Christmas tree ornaments, etc. Each was lovingly crafted
for the enjoyment of all. Family vacations were spent traveling to railway
museums and sleeping in caboose motels.
Later on Vladimir developed an interest
in roller coasters. Because he was a large economy-sized kid, he was
tall enough to ride these amusement park demons by the time he was
four. And I dutifully accompanied him, trying my best not to faint
or lose my lunch on the spiraling drops in mid-air. (My personal best was
riding the Quantum Loop five times in a row without barfing.)
Now, you’d think these were innocuous
pursuits, which would afford few reasons to be sent to Mommy
Jail. But believe me… there are plenty of
ways that only Vladimir could come up with.
From an early age, a favorite Saturday
morning routine for Vladimir and his dad was to go to one of the local train
spotting locations to watch for trains. During these outings they
would occasionally find old railroad spikes and the “fish-plates” into which
they are driven. These would be collected and brought home for the
“collection”. This would not be bad in and of
itself. However, I was a bit taken aback one morning when I came
outside to find 4-year-old Vladimir with a sledge-hammer in hand, pounding the
spikes through the fish plates and into our driveway.
“HOLY CRAP,
Vladimir! WHAT are you DOING?!?!”
This reasonable question was met with a
proud smile and the words… “Daddy said I could do
it.” GRRRRRR!
(Cut to scene of parents arguing in
quiet voices about the sanity of this pursuit.)
I had visions of having to rush
Vladimir to the hospital with a spike sticking out of his foot and blood
gushing from the massive head wound where he had clunked himself with the
sledge-hammer.
Emergency Room Nurse: “And
Vladimir’s Mommy… how exactly did
little Vladimir come to having a rusty railroad spike driven through his foot…
not to mention the gash in his head? Were you actually stupid enough
to think these were appropriate toys
for a 4-year-old? We’d like to have you talk to our social worker
now.”
Definitely a reason for
being sent to Mommy Jail!
Vladimir’s dad assured me I was
over-reacting and so the tradition continued and the number of fish-plates in
the driveway grew. For years I thumped over them as I drove the car
in and out of the driveway and swore at them each time my shovel came to a
jarring halt during the snowy season. (It wasn’t until Vladimir was
20 years old that he finally agreed to remove them.)
Another time, Vladimir and his dad
decided to build their own roller coaster. It was really cool! They
made 24 feet of grooved wooden track out of 2 x 4’s that actually went up and
down and over which Vladimir could ride a little cart that they also
created. We would add “poppers” to the track to create extra
thrills. (The chances of being arrested for having contraband
“poppers” in our possession were slim, so I agreed to go along with this plan. They
may yell at you for being stupid, but I don’t think they
take you to Mommy Jail for that.) Come winter, the track had to be
put away.
One day, Vladimir called me to the
basement to ask a favor. He was clad in his cute little engineer
outfit as usual and had gotten out one of the sections of roller coaster train
track. He was laying down on it and wanted me to tie him to the
tracks. Okay,
I’d play along…
I did such a good job, Vladimir looked as
though he’d been tied there by Snidely Whiplash himself! Then
Vladimir wanted me to leave him there like that. I went back
upstairs and went about my business and all was quiet from the
basement. The more I worked, the more uneasy I became…
This would be the perfect time for
someone to come visit, (for example, the social worker from the hospital,)
discover I had my child tied up to railroad tracks in the basement and turn me
in to the Mommy Police. Mommy Jail was definitely looming in the
distance.
When I rushed back downstairs to untie
him, Vladimir was laying quietly and contentedly, wondering why I was in such a
state. Poor Vladimir… once again I took all his fun away by
insisting he had to let me untie him. Worse, I made him
promise never to go to school and tell everyone I had tied him up in the
basement and left him to rot.
Lucky for me Vladimir’s a great kid… or
else he could still be holding this one over my head to this day!
Mommy Jail still lurks!
