I had the divine pleasure of working from home yesterday, and with the 90 minutes of round-trip Metro-North time out of the equation, I was done–and, of course, home–at 5:30.

I took advantage of the bonus time by taking Little G to the playground over at Hummerville Elementary. He climbed the three steps up to the ramp he loves to run on, a 30-foot corridor on a slight incline that leads to a mad tangle of slides, tunnels and bars.

I was watching out of the corner of my eye when Little G suddenly dropped like a rock, parallel to the ground just before he slammed into the ramp. He jumped to his feet as I ran to him; he wore the WTF? mask just before his little face scrunched into prepare-to-wail mode.

As it turned out, some jackass–OK, more likely, some kid simply being a kid–had laid a branch about the size of a pool cue across the ramp’s handrails, about 2 1/2 feet from the ground. Caught up in the rapture that is those first couple steps on a playground, Little G hit the stick with his forehead at full speed, and even broke the thing in two.

I held Little G as he wailed, a small cut rising on his temple. Of course, he wanted Mommy, so we got in the stroller and headed for home.

I offered a little “special coal”– which seems to work for Thomas the Train’s boiler ache in one of Little G’s books, and often for Little G himself after he’s taken a tumble. The invisible offering helped a little.

There will be countless times when I’m at a loss to explain life’s small injustices to Little G (and, down the road, Big G) after he’s been stung by one.

This was but the first.

A few months back, we took advantage of having missed the train to pick up a replica F train for Little G for Christmas. It was in Vanderbilt Hall in Grand Central, in those booths they set up for Christmas shopping.

Created by “Munipals“, the little F subway car cost $10 and was compatible with the trains and tracks. Little G promptly worked his new “Effy” train into the lineup along with Thomas, Percy, Spencer and the rest of the Sodor cabal. Effy seemed to give some Noo Yawk attitude to the quaint Brit world of Thomas.

One thing about the Thomas trains–lead paint notwithstanding, they’re expertly crafted. The Thomas trains we first started playing with a year ago run every bit as well as the day we opened them, and seem like they’ll continue to do so for years. Far as I can tell, they last forever.

Alas, not so much the Munipals F train from Grand Central. After maybe a month of moderate use, the F train’s wheels started locking up. He’d be pulling a big line of cars–Percy, Diesel, Little Henry–when the wheels would lock and the whole line would tumble like the New Haven Line on black ice.

Effy spent more and more time on the Sodor sidelines as the rest of the Thomas gang did the heavy lifting around our family room.

And Little G stopped calling him “Effy” or “F train” or anything with an F in it. Instead, he dubbed the crappy Munipals toy “Old Slow Coach”–after one of the wheezing old retro train cars from the Thomas & Friends catalog.

Old Slow Coach

[photo: LAToys.com]

Thanks to Little G, we end up spending a lot of time in Sodor—that is, the mythical island on which Thomas the Tank Engine and his train friends operate. All of the trains in Thomas’ world have unique personalities, whether it’s the narcissistic engine James or the perky young train Percy.  

That got us thinking—if Manhattan was Sodor, and vice versa, where would the Metro-North cast of characters fit in in Thomas’ little technicolor world? 

New Haven Line = Henry

Henry is a long train that “tends to be somewhat highly strung and prone to illness,” according to ThomasandFriends.com. The New Haven Line is highly strung as well–as in those arms extending to the electric catenary wires strung above the tracks. The most susceptible to foul weather of the three lines, New Haven is indeed prone to illness. Just ask any veteran rider of the line. 

The Harlem Line = Peter Sam

Peter Sam is “a happy and kind engine, but is a little vulnerable and often teased by the others.” Like Peter Sam, the Harlem Line suffers from a severe case of Middle Child Syndrome–not quite the doddering doofus that the New Haven Line is, not quite the beacon of efficiency that the Hudson Line is. 

MTA Board Member Mitchell Pally = Lady Hatt

Lady Hatt is Sir Topham Hatt’s wife and “a kind and gentile woman…who will also scold the engines when they act up or behave improperly.” Pally is the schoolmarm who wanted to do away with drinking on the trains.  

Slippery Rail Season = Lead Paint from China Used on Thomas Trains

Both lead paint and oily residue left on Metro North tracks force trains out of commission and leave their users gravely agitated.  

Finally, where, you ask, does our humble narrator, Thomas himself, fit into the equation? Thomas is described as a “cheeky, fussy little engine. He often gets into scrapes…but clouds never last long in Thomas’ world and he’s soon bustling about again.” 

Yes, that’d be you and me—the working stiffs shrugging off the floods and snowstorms and rude riders to turn up at our jobs in Sodor…er, Manhattan…each day.

As has been well-covered, China took a giant step in enhancing its business relationship with the U.S. by dousing Thomas & Friends toy trains with lead paint.

While we were playing with said trains (duh, the non-lead ones) with Little G, something struck us. The “character card” (think, baseball card for trains) for “Henry” made me wonder what Henry knew prior to the revelation that lead paint was used on the trains.

Reads the card: “[Henry’s] vanity and temperament were made famous when the tunnel he refused to leave, for fear of ruining his coat of paint, was bricked over so that he could not get out.”

[Yes, we realize that’s Thomas images in back to back days.]

Here’s the theory: Henry knew he’d been painted with lead paint, and took one for the team by refusing to leave the tunnel and subjecting himself to the curious mouths of small children all over the world. He sentenced himself to life in a brick tunnel to prevent children from brain damage.

Granted, it’s a longshot. But if it’s the case, well, Henry is a hero in our book.