Lately Mac has been obsessed with trains. Or choo-choos as he adorably calls them. Obsessed in the way that only a toddler can. We're talking shaking and squealing with delight at the mere glimpse of any train. Toy or real.
If Tracy and I could wrap up all the trains in the world and drop them at his feet we would. But I was less keen on the idea of actually putting a train table in my living room. In comparison, Tracy was itching to get out her
And so, like any couple in a healthy relationship, we discussed it calmly and rationally. Just kidding. We got into a pretty big melt-down-y fight about it. I desperately wanted it anywhere else. She felt like I was trumping her in the decision department. It was bad.
Finally, we came to an agreement that she could build it for him but it would go in his room (where he rarely plays and only goes to sleep). She wasn't particularly happy with this outcome. I wasn't particularly happy with her pouting.
Begrudgingly she went shopping for supplies at the
When it was all done my wife looked at me with big, brown, pleading puppy dog eyes. And my son looked at the table like he had just won the lottery. And, in Tracy, he truly did.
Consequently, we are now the proud owners of living room with a loving-ly built train table smack dab in the middle of it all. Sorry friends who want a place to put a drink down for the next few years. If you had seen their eyes you would have done the same thing.