Sunday, March 17, 2013

Crazy Train

Isaac is the most helpful child ever. So helpful, in fact, that it's almost unhelpful how insistent he is about helping. If I make pizza dough without involving him in the stirring process? Meltdown. Do laundry without him? Meltdown.

Our landlords upstairs have a washer and dryer, so we have to go out the back door, up the stairs outside, and into their utility room at the back of the house. It's a bit of an ordeal, especially if it's raining. Isaac likes to follow me up there, but asks me to carry him down the stairs.

One day, as we were headed back down the stairs, Isaac again asked to be carried. But I was bringing the dried load downstairs to be folded and couldn't carry the laundry and him at the same time. I told him, "You can go down the stairs."

He started down a few steps and then started screaming bloody murder and ran back up the stairs. He was yelling something I couldn't quite make out. But it sounded like he was terrified.

"What is it?"




"Train?" We live close to a railroad, so I thought maybe he heard the train whistle. But why would that scare him? We hear it all the time!

"Train!" He confirmed.

"I don't hear a train, Isaac. What is the matter?!"

I decided I'd take the laundry down and then go back up to get him, but he didn't like that. He needed me with him. So I picked him up and decided to go with the balancing act of hobbling down the stairs with a 2 year old and a load of laundry.

And then. I saw it. On a table outside, at the bottom of the stairs was... the train.

If I were 2, I would be screaming, too.

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