We’re going on da train Mammy.”
“Are we really?”
I do enjoy how much of a novelty the concept of a train is for my kids. Mini-Me will probably GET that ticket for the Hogwarts Express before we see trains in Donegal in fairness.
“Come on Mammy. Get on!”
“Where are we going?” Mammy asks.
“Somewhere special” answers my wee conductor.
She’s turned the sofa into a train, using cushions to create compartments.
Quite frankly, I’m all for any game that involves Mammy getting to sit her arse on the sofa for a bit.
As I grab my cuppa and walk towards the sofa, sorry train, she is putting the passengers into their “carriages”.
“You sit in here Chase, aside Marshall.”
She turns to the ponies… “You guys go in here togever.”
She puts two members of a Sylvanian Family of hedgehogs into the last carriage. “You girls go in here…”
I’m about to ask where exactly Mammy is supposed to go, seeing as that all the carriages are now taken by fluffy bottoms.
“Why don’t you put them in beside your PawPatrol…(sorry POP a Troll)… so I can sit in that carriage I ask.”
“Because of Cowona viwis…”
“Sorry what now?”
“COWONA VIWIS… Only bruvers and sisters can be togever Mammy. We can’t mix them up…”
“You sit here.” I plonk myself at the end of the sofa train and watch her jump on the other end and start to “drive” the train, choochoo sound effects and all.
And while she is off in her imagination, on her way to ‘somewhere special’, I sit at the back, a little bit broken that no matter how much I’ve tried to normalise and downplay the effect of this shitstorm on my wee angel, the impact of it and the reality of it is there in front of me, as plain as a big feckin train.
Fuck you very much Corona Virus.
I never did find out where the ‘somewhere special’ was… I suppose I was already there.