We live a couple of blocks from the train tracks, and since his suburban relocation, Oliver has become a train freak.
He’s like a dog with a dog whistle and hears the trains before they’re even in Connecticut. At which point, he loudly declares “toot toot.”
Which brings me to one of my low rent ‘adventures’ out here: walking to the train station. Sure, I talk it up so by the time we’re walking down the road leading up to the tracks, the anticipation is palpable. Will we or won’t we see a train?!
Thankfully, the odds of either an Amtrak or a Metro North train passing through in one direction or the other are pretty good.
Sometimes Mark’s coming home early enough so we can meet him at the station, but sometimes we just stop by on our walk.
The gasp of delight as the train races by is almost worth the tantrum that ensues when we try to leave the train tracks behind. All of the conductors are adorable as they make a point of waving and saying ‘hi’ to the frantically pointing toddler sitting on the steps.
What’s Martha doing during these outings, you ask? Well, she’s smiling, but I’m not sure she’s that impressed. One day…
At least Oliver’s not obsessed with garbage trucks… that would be a trickier adventure.