Why is Caillou still bald? He’s four…and each day he grows some more…so why can’t he grow any fucking hair?!
Bubs received some motorized train toys for Christmas this year, well…last year technically. At first he only really liked to play with them minus batteries, but he’s comfortable with their intended function now. He likes to turn the trains on and off, and set them in various directions in various places throughout the house. He also enjoys watching them on the track that came with little Thomas, though he can get frustrated when they derail.
Anyway…I was watching this activity the other day, whilst in a particularly existentially-angsty mood, and it occurred to me that this child’s toy was a fairly resonant metaphor for life.
Someone carefully designs and builds you, and sends you out into the world. You’ll go around the track for awhile. Sometimes you’ll be derailed, sometimes you’ll get stuck and need a push from another engine. Sometimes your batteries will run down and need to be recharged/replaced. Then, one day, whether you’re on the track or not; whether your batteries have just been replaced and your paint has been touched up, and you spent the weekend resting in the depot, your motor will just stop. And people can cry and toddlers can beg for “barries” and parents can look for a replacement, but none of these efforts will ever move you around that track again.