Understanding

Graham loves trains. That's an understatement. He plays, dreams, thinks, reads (well, is read to), talks, thinks, breathes trains.

Trains are a source of great joy, and great angst for him. We have a family rule: we share the toys. For a great deal of his life this has worked to Graham's advantage. And, as he has been reminded frequently, his sister is actually not a huge threat to his train-playing liberties. He apparently sees things differently. Out of the blue in conversation Graham has been repeating a troubling thought.

Says Graham: I wish I didn't have a sister. Do you know why?

Mother: Um, why? (With a tone of angst, noting that the troublesome sister is strapped in next to him. Is it really fair to pursue this conversation?)

Graham: Because, um, I don't wike to share my twains with her.

Greta: Graham, I don't even like trains. (Which is sort of true.) Well, I only like the girl trains. Molly and Lady are my trains.

Graham: But, I really, really like trains. I really, really like Molly.

Mother: That's OK, Graham. You can play with them.


Thankfully, Greta has yet to hammer him with why she could do without a little brother too. And, working to her advantage in the fair-train play department, Graham recieved a set of tracks that he has yet to master himself. Greta, however, has no trouble. Imagine his quandry when she approached him saying, "Graham, do you want to set up the racing Thomas set in the kitchen? Then, Molly and Thomas can race."

"O KAYYYYY." Graham literally gallopped about with enthusiasm as his siter began to set up the track.

Then, at the ripe old age of two 1/2, Graham must have realized the incongruency of his emotions. He said, "Greta sometimes I joke about I don't like you to pway with my twains. I just telling you a joke." He really said it. (She was so over it already, Graham, but my heart melted.)

Like all happy endings, though, Graham's warm and fuzzy feelings toward his sister faded quickly. Today, on our way to Barnes and Oboe (I will never go back to Noble), Graham told Greta, "You are going to go find fairy books, and I'm going to pway twains, Greta. Do you understand me?"

Of course, she understood him far too well. She marched right past all of her favorite books and grabbed a train right off the bat. To which Graham chimed in with, "No. This is not what I understand."

It's hard, Buddy.