I just tucked Leo into bed, and he snuggled into sleep, surrounded by a shiny green tractor, a red pickup truck, and a boxful of approximately 42 Thomas the Tank Engine trains.
This boy loves trains. I mean really loves trains. And I know that he is merely one of many millions of small boys who really, really love trains a whole lot.
I know this because we just spent a day at the Edaville Railroad in Carver, Massachusetts, which was hosting their annual “Day Out With Thomas,” a surreal locomotive love-fest for fans of Thomas the Tank Engine.
Guests have the opportunity to ride on a narrow-gauge train pulled by none other than Thomas himself. There are also photo ops with the Really Useful Engine, as well as a chance to meet Sir Topham Hatt, the “fat controller” of the Sodor railways.
If you don’t have a two year-old boy in your household, the entire paragraph above was probably completely incomprehensible to you. If, however, you do, then you can understand that this event was akin to a nine year-old girl going to see Miley Cyrus. Or a 14 year-old boy, circa 1981, going to see Rush live. Or me, seeing ABBA in concert.
I’m guessing that Edaville Railroad is pretty much always a haven for small boys and train-heads – and I’ll grant you, the site is pretty amazing. It’s a beautiful, pastoral setting, all sweeping green fields and cranberry bogs, with a truly stunning old brick building that must have at one time been a factory of some sort but has since been rehabbed as a stationhouse/gift shop/activity center.
In addition to the narrow-gauge train ride, there are a few other train-themed kiddie rides as well as some decommissioned train cars and cabooses that are perfect for little ones to clamber on and play in. There are also just enough “big kid” rides (read: nausea inducers, like the Tilt-O-Whirl and the Scrambler) to placate the older siblings who go along to be good sports (Emma, who, poor child, knows more lyrics to Thomas songs than she does to the Jonas Brothers these days).
Anyway, the place was chock full of teeny tiny testosterone that day, and Leo was practically jumping out of his skin by the time we boarded the train. He stood on his seat the whole way, pointing out the sights as we wound through miniature villages and slightly odd cardboard cutouts of indigenous Massachusetts wildlife.
We were able to stop for the requisite “pose with Thomas” shot, but Leo seemed less focused on Thomas himself than all of the wonders available to him that day. He loved every ride, every opportunity to climb around on old trains – he even spent a good twenty minutes happily running in circles around one of those strange, mushroom-shaped outdoor speakers that was piping out one Thomas song after another.
All round, money well spent. Except for Sir Topham Hatt…I would say that was a definite disappointment from my perspective. I was hoping for a jolly, rotund fellow with a top hat and a badly faked English accent, bellowing out “All aboard, old chap!” to all comers. But alas, it was just a sullen teen in a puffy suit and fake head who had such a hard time seeing where he was going that he needed two equally sullen teenage “handlers” to help him walk twenty feet from the station house to the gazebo. The resulting lopsided shuffle made it look like the poor guy had had a lobotomy.
Leo’s love affair with Thomas has had us all thinking about childhood obsessions of late. Emma had them too, and in observing Leo’s “journey” with Thomas, she has had fun recalling her own phases – Teletubbies, Polly Pockets, Strawberry Shortcake. Through one lens, you could look at that list, shake your head sadly, and comment on what poor little television marketing victims both of my children have been.
But for Leo, and for Emma both, I see these obsessions as the first time they showed a focused, continued interest in anything beyond the immediate necessities of food, and diapers, and Mommy and Daddy, and sleep. It signaled the first real forays into imaginative play and new worlds where, sometimes, mommies and daddies don’t always have to be the first priority.
One key element of any childhood obsession is its transience. I remember thinking that Emma would always, always love the Teletubbies – and Dipsy in particular. And though she’ll still stop and watch a Tubby rerun all the way through to the end, it’s with an affection for its kitschy, campy irrelevance to her life.
So I’m sure that at some point, Leo will stop drawing trains at every opportunity, and the number of wheeled objects that end up in bed with him every night will gradually decrease.
But for now, it’s all about Thomas. And Percy. And Henry. And Gordon. And Mavis. And Skarloey. And all the rest.
