Dylan,
The wooden train set you got for Christmas spends a lot of time laid out on the floor. You often encourage me to join you in making use of it but you don't really invite me to join in so much as you implore me with: "Play your trains! Play your trains!", often jabbing a finger toward the space you would have me occupy.
In your mind you've usually designated some car or engine as mine, but you invariably develop a new attachment to it as soon as I start rolling it down the tracks.
Dad
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