I Don’t Think My Son Knows Where He Lives

The Youngling has a small wooden train of three cars which looks, if you squint, like Montreal’s blue Metro cars. Last night we were playing with his trains on the train table:

Him: “This is my Metro. Do-do-doooooooo…”

Me: “What stop are we at? Champ-de-Mars?”

Him: “No.”

Me: “Place-d’Armes?”

Him: “No. Coronation Street.”

 

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