Thomas The Tank Engine and The Terrible Train Table Wreck

Our Tom, who has attained the ripe old age of six, has always been about transportation. The child could explain what a contrail(1) was and how it formed by the age of 2. Okay, raise your hand if you had to look at the footnote.

At the age of 18 months, I bought him a Thomas the Tank Engine train table and a starter kit of track and trains. The kid has since amassed since then a pretty impressive collection of track, trains and accoutrement. When we came to China last year, we left it in the US, thinking we would be here for just a few months. Ha! The boy, ever wistful about his beloved Thomas, really missed having the track around.

This summer, it was a joyous reunion with his beloved train table and track. He has also amassed a huge collection of planes, and in Tom's World, the Island is Sodor has just as large an aiport as it does a train depot, and he and Hope spent hours and hours wrapped up in various Island of Sodor train and plane adventures. Watching them play, I was determined to bring as much train stuff as I could manage back to China. 

Please note, these are not our actual children: just stand-ins for the purpose of enlightening those who are not so well versed in All Things Thomas.

Now, getting all of that stuff to China was tricky. First, the train table did not come. As expat's living out of suitcases, we are in the vast, vast minority. Most foreigners in Our Fair City have come here on the expense account of some large corporation (Ford being the biggest one). As part of their contracts for living in what is considered a "Hardship Zone," these folks get money to educate their children, an annual travel budget, house/food/clothing budgets and a container to ship their belongs to and from their native country. An entire container. Not like a plastic bin that you would buy in Wal-Mart to store your winter coats in mind you, but a shipping container.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we of the independent status are allowed to schelp in exactly 50 kilos of belongings each trip. That is per passenger, of course. But it includes not only our desirable, well fitting western jeans and outer coats, but things like vitamins, A.1. Steak Sauce, books for one and all, brownie mix, gluten free soy sauce, and, this trip every piece of Thomas the Tank Engine we could stuff into the nooks and crannies of our suitcases. Which turned out to be a fair bit.

In general, I'm fine living out of a suitcase. We have made ourselves quite comfortable in China, and our living arrangements are such that we are provided with things like plates and glasses. So I don't miss much. But I had the picture in my head of those two children playing so kindly together over that train table. I wanted the train table.  

I searched and searched in China, but to no avail. While they are probably all made here, they are not sold. And finally, I begged Jeff to please, please find someone to make one for Tom. The boy needed to have his train table. Or rather, I needed the boy to have his train table.

Jeff set to it, and like most things he sets his mind to, was successful. The guy who does the "decoration" (which around here means "renovations") to his office space was more than happy to do us a favor. Such a favor, in fact, that he told Jeff he would make it for free. It would take a week, and he would deliver it to Jeff's office, but we would have our train table! I sent a photo to Jeff of exactly what I wanted, and then set about fretting about how on earth we would get something size of a train table from Jeff's office in mid-town to the Southern Ghost Part of Town where we live. The thing would never fit in a taxi, nor could we strap it to the back of a bike and bike that far ... fret, fret, fret.

Meanwhile, back in our cozy home, Tom was not exactly hanging around wistfully dreaming of his missing train table. Rather, and he Hope quickly took over a large section of the living room and set to building the biggest train lay out ever; complete with airport. It took me a few days to get it, but the kid clearly did not need a train table. And given how much fun they were having with the almost life-sized spread, a train table was probably going to curtail their little imaginations.

I tried to put in a stop-work order. Too late! The train table was "almost done" and would be delivered "to the office" on Friday! Gack! Nothing like going from being thrilled to wondering where the heck I was going to store the thing in about 14 seconds.

Jeff talked to the decorator guy, and while he was hugely puzzled about why we were so worried about getting the train table home, he finally agreed to deliver it to the house instead of to Jeff's office. Which he did. 

And you know what? It all worked out just fine.

Sometimes, communication gaps can work in your favor.

He uses it as an airplane hanger. Pretty nifty, huh?

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(1) Contrail: are visible trails of condensed water vapour made by the exhaust of aircraft engines. As the hot exhaust gases cool in the surrounding air they may precipitate a cloud of microscopic water droplets. If the air is cold enough, this trail will comprise tiny ice crystals.

Comments

[Debbie Hanson]

My son is too old to have been around for the Thomas the Tank Engine craze...but he did have an obsession with airplanes. Especially jets, military jets. He knew all of them and we had zillions of the little suckers in every size. My vacuum sucked up more mini-bombs and missles than dust bunnies!!

[eyesontheground]

BRIO!! Our Brio train set was me and my brothers fav when we were kids. We had enough to have a huge train city on the living room floor. Glad to see that some toys never go out of style! (I am a 1/4 centry old ;-)) Hope everything is going well!! ~eyesontheground (just hoping over from coth to say hi!!)