“I don’t know. I don’t see a train today.”
“The yellow train, Mommy. Where did it go?”
“Uh, … um, … Wisconsin? The yellow train isn’t around today, baby.”
“What about the blue train? I don’t see that either.”
“It’s probably traveling somewhere, bringing cargo to another state.”
“Oh. What about the subway train?”
“We don’t have a subway train.”
“But, if we did, where would it be?”
“Um, in the subway?”
I wish I could say my son doesn’t stump me on an every-day basis, but he does. I’ve pretty much tucked my IQ in the back drawer, and admitted defeat in knowing any answer to any question my son poses. Yes, I’m a useless fount of knowledge in many areas, but when it comes to my son, I’m clueless.
Sometimes the answer is as simple as, “because I’m a girl.”
I grew up with Barbies, Carebears, books, and roller skates. Trains were not fascinating to me, unless I knew when my uncle was driving one past my grandmother’s house. I spent hours out of my day reading Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. I could spend hours playing quietly in my room, brushing my doll’s hair.
However, since I’ve had a son, my way of life has changed. I’m constantly on my toes. I’m constantly moving. What’s more, I’m constantly asked to make up reasons why the blue and yellow train didn’t bother driving down the road at the exact moment we passed the tracks.