The Express - don't leave home without it!

This is the Express. One of the many faithful coaches that mighty Gordon pulls to ferry his passengers around the island of Sodor.

Those familiar with Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends would know what I'm going on about.

If anything qualifies as Timmy's first love, this is it. Well, ok... possibly on par with mummy, and not so long ago his "tu-tu" (pacifier). But this is something he must have with him.

Regardless of what toys he is playing, no one else is allowed to touch it. When he cycles around, he must have it in the basket. When we go out shopping, or to the church, he must bring it along. When he goes to school, he must have it with him for that short journey in the car. (We warned him of the possible dreadful fate of the Express should he try to bring it into school, so that's the only exception he allows.) When he sleeps, he must have it next to him. Even in dreamland, he would flail his hands around the bed seeking for the unmistakable rattle of its wheels, reach out and hold it securely in his little palm.

It's a mystery, this fascination with the decidedly unglam Express. It's not adorned with bright colours, like the other trains are. It doesn't have its own engine, no exhaust, no smiling face like the other engines, yet Timmy doesn't care for the Thomas or Gordon or James - he just want his Express, ever since he was about a year old. When Jerry and he used to get into fights over the trains, it was easy to resolve - just persuade Jerry to play with the other more glamorous trains and give the Express to Timmy.

I wonder how long his fixation with the Express will last. But it was the same for his "tu-tu" - we never thought he would be able be give it up. Until the day, about 2 months ago, when mummy tricked him into throwing the badly chewed-up thing into the dustbin, thinking they were just playing - only to be told that it's gone forever down the rubbish chute. Occasionally he still asks to look into the rubbish chute to see if he can find anything, and we would dutifully oblige - opening up the chute cover so that he can stare into the dark empty abyss. Today in church, while rummaging through his rugsack, he muttered "tu-tu". But I'm sure he knew it's wishful thinking, with no real hope of finding it. In the meantime the dull but dependable Express will serve as his source of comfort and security.