My Toddler is the *rain Man

Earlier this summer the family took a day trip to the Jersey shore. Having spent a major portion of that day in the sun and sand, we readied to head back home. My three-year-old son refused to put on his sandals, even after taking a few sizzling steps onto the sun-soaked blacktop.

"What are you, a BEACH BUM," I cracked, mildly amused that he would rather endure the treacheries of walking barefoot.

"No dad, you a beach bum!" he asserted.

We exchanged words a few times, and then I allowed him to get the final word. Needless to say, my son walked barefoot all the way back to the car.


A few weeks later, the family took a camping trip up to Vermont. Having parked the car, my son kicked off his sandals and proceeded to run about the campsite barefoot. Yes. Sixty degrees, raining, with that brisk New England late summer chill. And there he was, digging his toes into a carpet of pine needles.

"What are you, a MOUNTAIN MAN," I cracked. This time I new the rules of the game meant he now had to volley back a remark.

"No dad, you a mountain man."

"No, you're the mountain man!" I shot back, attempting to best this toddler.


This time, he looked at me in earnest and replied, "No dad, I'm a *rain man."

I blinked. A rain man? My wife and I exchanged looks of befuddlement. What did my son know about autism and Dustin Hoffman? Yeah, my son's a keen observer, but this definitely didn't make sense.

"A rain man?" I asked.

"Yes dad, a *rainmain. Choo choo."

Oh yes, of course. A TRAIN man. Of the Thomas the Tank Engine variety of train man at that. "Why yes, you are a train man, aren't you." And to that, he nodded in agreement.

Toddler is a language of all it's own; apparently I am not all that fluent.