This is a Christmas story about a young boy. A boy slight in stature and mighty in personality. He's a unique one, this kiddo. He's a throwback to a different time. He does not like electronic toys. Yes, you read that right. No batteries, no remotes, no power. The only fuel he taps into is his own imagination.
He likes trains. Wooden trains and wooden tracks. He had a sizable collection but he wanted more. And in wonderful synchronicity it so happened that a friend of mine had four tubs of tracks and trains that were the same kind as this little guy's collection. Four tubs just sitting in her garage. My friend had them because her mother had collected them through the years, picking up boxes here and there at thrift stores. Her mother gave them to her to see if she find a home for them or sell them.
Remember when I filled a Saturday baking Christmas goodies? It was at that friend's house, the one with the trains in the garage, where the baking took place. And my other friend, this boy's mother, stopped by for a visit that afternoon. I believe that is when Santa Claus reached his great gloved hand into the scene. The trains came up in conversation. And before you could say, On Donner and Blitzen on Comet and Cupid, four tubs of train tracks and trains and bridges and all sorts of related things changed hands.
So, Santa delivered the trains! But, as we all know, Santa is a busy guy. He tapped our shoulders for a little assistance. Yesterday morning and into the early afternoon, my friend, her partner and I assembled and connected the tracks. We wound those pieces this way and that all over their backyard patio and sidewalks.
We assembled bridges and overpasses, a major train station, a zoo, a repair garage, a village and so much more.
We did all of this without my friend's son having any idea what was awaiting him. He was pretty darn happy when he found out!
Being Santa's helper? It's a great gig if you can get it. ;-)