"Do you think he'll like it?" Mrs Kraft asked.
"Of course he will," her husband replied. "Have you ever known a boy who didn't like model trains?"
Mrs Kraft thought for a minute. "I've known enough big boys who did," she retorted. She looked around the lounge, at the gaudily wrapped presents that had been arranged by the fireplace and under the tree. "So, where shall we put this one?" She started to rearrange the presents to make room,
"No." Mr Kraft stopped her. "We're going to do this properly."
"What do you mean?"
Mr Kraft pointed at a clear space on the floor. "We'll build it there. That way it will be the first thing he sees when he comes down in the morning."
"But won't that - ?" Mrs Kraft's question was cut short.
"Trust me," Mr Kraft told her. "Trust me on this one."
With the two of them working together, the Krafts managed to get the model railway put together before midnight. Now that it was finished and in place, even Mr Kraft had to admit it didn't meet the promise of the gaudy illustration on the front of the box. There was only a single loop of track - no sidings or passing places. The halt building and the level crossing looked like the cheap plastic they were made from, while the tunnel was just a cardboard cutout. But the engine and trucks were bright and colourful and ran with a satisfying whirr and clunk.
"Come on," Mrs Kraft said, and pulled her husband to his feet. "Time for bed."
They were both woken at five o'clock in the morning. There was the sound of footsteps padding downstairs with the peculiar tread of an eight-year old trying to be quiet. Then there was a moment of silence, followed by the sound someone running up the stairs, eager and uncaring who they woke. The door to their bedroom was flung open, and a small body threw itself onto the bed!
"Mom! Dad! I've got a train set! And it goes around and around and - !"
Mr Kraft nudged his wife in the ribs. "See?" he whispered in her ear. "I told you he'd be excited about it."
