Tag Archives: Thomas the Tank Engine

I am, at the moment, on eBay


pic: TRACKLESS NO MORE
Greed? Enthusiasm? A youthful sense of fun? Or my American duty to stimulate the economy on Cyber Monday? Ah, yes, that’s it: patriotism compels me to buy more track.

Thomas madness has swept through our small house like one of those strangely frequent storms on Sodor. It is not, however, contagious. I am alone in my affliction. Even the kid, whose toys these ostensibly are, is immune. I am bidding on train track. As I write this, I frantically toggle windows with my eBay screen….I still see the words “It is almost over and you are currently the highest bidder,” but at any moment some savvy, practiced, heartless eBay veteran will outbid me by a cent. This is precisely what happened late last night, when I bid on not one, but three different lots of used Thomas track. Reasoned thinking, I find, becomes more and more difficult as the almost audible buzz of auction anxiety derails all common sense. Three minutes to go, now. If I don’t win this pathetic lot, I shall try in 4 more minutes for a larger pathetic lot. And if I don’t win that, I shall keep looking. The economy may be down, down, down, but Thomas stock keeps going up, up, up. At least with us frantic parents who imagine that all future toy happiness depends on 34 pieces of Maple wood track (with road markings on the reverse–so versatile). One minute, 10 seconds. I can’t pay retail, because retail entails outlay of cash or credit, and my sources of each are, well, frozen. Solid. Instead, I must pay with the play PayPal money: imaginary funds begotten through those marginally profitable eBay sales I mentioned a few days ago. Each sale costs me far more in premature aging than in listing fees and Final Value Fees and PayPal fees and postage fees and all other fees known and unknown. But I persist because of the possibility of more track. Layouts more elaborate than a figure eight require track. Layouts that take Thomas all the way from the living room through the kitchen and dining room and back again require much more track. And who wants this track? The kid? No, the kid doesn’t even know more track is a possibility. It never crosses his tiny mind. It is me. I like trains. I have recently discovered this. I am a late bloomer to trains.

a moment later….

Okay, not only did I win the lot of 34, but I immediately toggled over to the other open eBay tab and started bidding on a lot of 55. That almost audible hum became a deafening roar: “I MUST HAVE THAT TRACK. I am not complete without that track. I will keeping hunting for track at every yard sale, church sale, Craigslist ad, and eBay auction until I get that track.”

So, I got the track. I now have a lot of track. Actually, I have two lots of track. I can begin breathing normally again. I can hear properly. I can also hear myself wondering if I just did the right thing. Oh well, if I change my mind, at least I know where I can sell it off later….

One Track Mind

pic: Sir Topham Hat is creepy enough as a wooden miniature, don’t you think?

I was a tense night, wasn’t it? I gave up at 9pm. The brownies were great–especially because the teenager had put Extra Dark Cocoa into my grocery cart without me noticing. Wow. But, I was not to be distracted from the anxieties bubbling up online, on tv, and on the sofa beside me. We went through a pack of gum and started on ballpoint pen caps. So, I retired to bed with the latest Thomas the Tank Engine Yearbook, pondering the merits of the 5-in-1 Expansion Set versus a combo of the Figure 8 with the Cross & Switch. Mind you, the toddler is completely satisfied with the bare bones beginner setup downstairs, and with his one engine and 2 cars. He has no idea that “more” is even an option. He looks at that Yearbook as often as I do, but he looks at it as a storybook, not a catalog. He doesn’t understand that these toys are to be lusted after, to be acquired, to be possessed. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. His train table is a piece of pegboard propped up on three Huggies boxes. It falls down every time he leans on it.

No, he’s fine with his limited riches. It is his mum who longs for switch track and arched viaducts and, dream of all dreams: the Deluxe Roundhouse with Turntable. I want it all. Right now. I imagine getting a pile for cheap on Craigslist, hiding it until he is developmentally and emotionally and gratefully ready for each piece. Until then, I would get to play with the whole thing when he’s in bed. Honestly, though, I’ll end up getting one pack of track and maybe, just maybe, one more engine. Toby, perhaps, as he is so sweet and old. And I will buy these things with my PayPal play money, laboriously begotten through a series of time-consuming and barely profitable eBay transactions. As long as toys don’t touch my Visa or my checking account, they are free. Even so, they are toys, they do add up, and they change things. Less is more, I know, I know. He spent a half hour in the dirt yesterday, scraping at it with a pot shard. Dirt is truly free. And it’s really, really useful.