I may have found a toy that can buy me some precious time, after dinner and before bed, to blog or chat on the phone with my sister or work on the proposal. It’s rare, you see, for me to do anything other than give the Kaiser my undivided attention. Entirely my fault, the Kaiser’s reluctance to play alone. I admit this freely. Since the kid was tiny, I’ve erred on the side of overzealous parenting. It is what it is.
As he’s grown, I have tried to step back, allow for quiet play. Imagination and shit. But it’s difficult when I’m smoking a cigarette and he asks me to play trains. Can I really justify, “Oh, mommy’s too busy,” as I take a drag of my Marlboro Light? Yeah, that’s craptastic. But I do know that I deserve some quiet time, from time to time. And this latest toy? Man, I think I mighta struck Kaiser gold.
It’s Cranky. Cranky the Crane. It fits on his Thomas the Tank Engine table, and it’s, well, a crane. It also talks, creepy Victorian junk like, “Please keep in mind that you shouldn’t delay,” and, “You’re a very useful engine.” Weeeeird.
But for now, I’m cool. Lookit, I just typed three paragraphs and two sentences without one interruption. Not one. Cranky, I salute you.