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by Jacky Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2275665
Flash Fiction
Andrew

Four year old Andrew ran by me with a brick in his hand.

“Hey! I yelled, where are you going with that?” he was headed for his room.

“It’s for my train!” he called back.

He didn’t have a train... I jumped up and followed. When I got to his room he was on the floor, back to me, doing something, so I quickly went in. “What did you do with that brick?”

As he turned and stood up, I could see the brick, holding down a cut up cardboard box, in a line of other odd things snaking their way across the far edge of his room. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“It’s a train track! See?” he said pointing to several shoes, some folded up paper, a number of his flatter toys and toward the end, the cardboard box that was apparently a bridge, being held in place with the brick.

Pretty clever I thought, I could actually see his ‘track’ as it wound its way across the room and through the ‘tunnel.’

“Where’s your train?” I asked, intrigued.

“I had to use one of my trucks, it’s long and flat see?” he held up a truck which he had apparently colored with markers. I was fascinated!

“When did you decide to build a train set?” I asked.

“I saw a show on TV about a train and I was thinking about it last night. Do you like it?”

“I love it!” I said. It was his very first project. I knew right then he would go far.”

The Nobel Prize committee all stood up and cheered!

But then I woke up. Andrew was actually pouring juice in my mouth trying to wake me up, because he was hungry...

Ah, the dreams we have for our kids!
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