The Last Car

I smiled warmly at my wife. “Thank you, sweetie. It’s exactly what I wanted.” I held the red caboose to my chest, close to my heart.

She smiled back at me and patted me on my knee. “I knew it was. You’re like an open book to me.” She gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Now go downstairs and try it out – I know that’s what you’re dying to do anyway.”

My smile broadened and my eyes widened. I held her hand tight as I rose from the sofa, with an audible vacuum created ‘pop’ as my rear disengaged from the protective plastic. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas, my little Roger-Dodger!” She scrunched up her face when she said it, then rose to her feet and released my hand. “I’ll call you up when the cookies are ready.”

Cradling my prize in hand, I made my way downstairs – to my sanctuary – where my wife feared to tread.

Funny that.

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