"See choo-choo train," he said.
"Dude, I don't think we'd make it," I said.
"Daddy-pick-you-up," he said. "See choo-choo train."
Which is how I ended up power-walking six blocks, carrying a two-year-old who seemed to be getting heavier by the second, in a futile attempt to get back to the railroad tracks before the train was out of sight.
"Sorry, dude, we missed it," I said.
Michael was philosophical about the defeat. "Motorcycle," he remarked. "Squirrel."
We went back to Adam's apartment, Michael pointing out every car, truck, and squirrel on the way, in case I missed any. Adam and Melissa weren't due back for another couple of hours, and my father announced his intention of taking a nap to recover from the previous day's 14-hour drive. My mother and I decided to take Michael out so he wouldn't go stir-crazy in Adam's tiny apartment.
We ended up at Kmart, a veritable paradise to Michael, and a mistake on my part. See, Michael is one of the least spoiled kids I know. He rarely gets cranky, he's naturally agreeable, and he has never, ever thrown a fit when told he couldn't have something. But I simply cannot get through a toy aisle without buying him something -- not because he begs, but because of the way he smiles when he sees a particular toy. On this trip, it was a little wooden train set, as a partial apology for not being able to magically produce the real thing earlier. Michael was ecstatic. He clutched the box all the way up to the register, and squirmed with anticipation when we got to the counter. He knows about paying for things, but was afraid the cashier hadn't seen him. "Lady, train, lady, train," he said.
We paid, stopped at the book store, and went back to the apartment. Dad was up, and Michael immediately ran up to him. "Pa, play trains," he said.
We opened the train set and he and Pa played trains for awhile. Then Adam and Melissa came home and Michael told them about the birds in the park and going to the book store and playing trains with Pa, and eventually we all partook of Adam's ridiculous but undeniably tasty cake. After some more time with the train set, Ma and Pa said their goodbyes and headed to their hotel and Michael was zipped into his pajamas and put to bed, and I bedded down on the couch.
The cool thing about Michael is he'll let you sleep in. I awoke at about 6:30 to find him sitting on his little inflatable bed looking at me. "Daddy," he said.
"Dude, it's too early. Go back to sleep for awhile, then we'll play," I said, and he nodded and squirmed back under his covers and gave me a half-hour's grace period.
At seven o'clock, however, the temptation was too great. He got out of his bed and, as I watched through half-closed eyes and pretended to sleep, he walked across the room, hefted the box containing his new train set, and staggered to my bedside.
"Daddy open," he suggested. "Play trains."
So Daddy opened and we played trains for awhile, until he heard Adam and Melissa getting ready for work, at which point he invaded their room and gave Melissa instructions on fixing her hair, up to and including making sure she unplugged the hair dryer. Then Ma and Pa came over and it was off to the park, where we once again failed to see any trains, then the bookstore.
Michael and I ranged through the entire store, ducking in and out of the children's section repeatedly. After awhile, Michael got tired of walking and turned to me, his arms held out. "Daddy-pick-you-up," he said, so I did.
The kids' area carpet had a spacescape pattern, with Saturn being the major motif. "Daddy walk on stars-planets," Michael said as I carried him around. I wish, I thought.
Then it was time for luch with Adam and Melissa, then playtime in the world-famous Chick-Fil-A playplace, during which Michael astonished us by glancing at a sign reading "Sneaker Keeper" and casually saying "S, starfish, A, apple." Turns out the kid knows the entire alphabet. Then it was time to take him back to his grandfather.
We were about halfway there when I spotted something off in the distance. "Michael," I said as I pointed out the window, "what's that?"
He looked out the window and his eyes lit up. "Choo-choo train!" he said. "Choo-choo train!" He had gotten to see one after all. I felt unaccountably relieved. The sameness of the trip got to him soon after and he fell asleep.
