I hate a toy

He’s got a cute face, a solid build, and great reputation. But I hate him. Well, just one version of him. Thomas the Tank Engine is great on TV, cute on wooden tracks, but horrible, horrible when he comes in Duplo block form. “Big Thomas,” as my son calls him, is composed of four interlocking pieces. Building him is what makes him so much fun for my son. Watching his four pieces break apart and scatter to the four ends of the earth is what makes him torture for me. Big Thomas has shattered on sidewalks and subways, once conveniently arraying himself with two parts on the train and two on the platform. Kind passengers threw the pieces from the platform back onto the train just as the doors were closing. I was hoping they’d miss. Big Thomas falls to pieces when my son rolls him along the sides of skyscrapers, over cracks in sidewalks, and along the wooden slats that make up playground fixtures in the city park closest to our home. My son falls to pieces if Big Thomas isn’t with us at all times. He also flirts with tantrums if he can’t get the pieces together quickly enough or if I dare to put them together in a manner not meeting his specifications. In particular, he prefers that the piece with the engineer’s quarters in it be placed backwards. It’s just the way things are done in his world, reality be damned. I am not allowed to hold Big Thomas except when my son is climbing a playground ladder. Therefore, it is just his small hand with his emerging fine motor skills that comes between Big Thomas and gravity. I could hate gravity, but I hate a toy instead. And, sadly, I know Big Thomas will not be the last toy I hate. I’ve seen the future, and it’s filled with those damnably complicated Transformers, rife with too many hinges, levers, and geegaws destined to break apart—and break my spirit all over again.

Taglines for My Toddler

I’m starting with five. As there are so many more on the tip of my virtual tongue, I’ll be converting this topic into a regular feature.

I know what I want, why don’t you?

What’s the hurry?

Everything belongs in the toilet

Everything belongs to me

Crayons do too taste good