Saturday, January 3, 2009

The long train of thought

Today we found out that castles make stroller-bound kids sleepy. We also discovered that Patrick likes trains. Actually, my nephew wouldn't shut up about them, so it was not really that big of a 'discovery'. I guess in Indiana they don't have trains. Or castles. Or the ability to state things only once and then move on.

'Hey P², what do you want for breakfast?'

'I like trains.'

'Uh, ok. But I asked about food. We have cereal, eggs, toast...'

'I like trains.'

'Yeah, I got it. Now, let it go. I can make some pancakes, waffles, or maybe some...'

'I like trains.'

'Thanks for the news flash, Boxcar Willie. I'll give you a dollar if you stop announcing it.'

It's a good thing I have developed a high tolerance for repetitive persistence, although it is normally in the form of 'are we there yet?'. See, the secret to that stupid question is to simply play their game - just keeping asking 'I know you are, but am I there yet?' over and over again until they cry. It is also a good thing that I had a dollar on me, since Patrick is obviously a financial investor in the making. At least he was able to put a plug in it for almost two minutes.

After drinking my brain breakfast with milk and two sugars, I had the brilliant idea of going to the castle for a picnic using the mountain rail car.

'See Patrick, it's like a train, but it goes up a mountain.'

'I like trains.'

'Here we go again...Ok, that's it! Someone put a coat on One-track and lets go!'

On the way to the cable car, I tried inventing a new game where if anyone said 'I like trains', they would lose. In addition to trains, I found out today that Patrick also likes being a loser.

If the caffeine had kicked into my brainstream a little sooner this morning, it would have dawned on me that having an outdoor picnic in the middle of winter is a cold idea. In my defense, I was slightly distracted by Patrick's bizarre declarations of fondness for locomotives. The aftermath of my brain freeze is this snapshot: Christine's jaw has frozen in mid-bite, Stephanie is stiff as an orange surfing board, Patrick is undoubtedly fantasizing about trains, Peter is trying to warm up by...I don't know, what is that - meditating, and David is flashing me his disgusted 'you're stupid' look that he must have learned from Mama.

We stopped in the castle café for some very HOT chocolate before making our way home. Peter and David threatened to gang-beat Patrick if he mentioned anything related to trains, so it was a relatively quiet ride home.

Christine cooked dinner tonight. For anyone who might be confused by this statement, let me remind you - Christine is my sister. Angie is my wife and if she cooked dinner, believe me, I would be more confused than you. I would also immediately increase our home owner's insurance and buy a few fire extinguishers.

Dinner was great - chicken marinated in soy sauce with 'a little garlic'. I saw Chris make it and sorry, but ten toes of garlic will definitely make the little piggy go 'wheeeee' all the way home. David liked it so much that he decided it was worthy of a food fight. After he took a handful of rice and chucked it at Patrick, I took a handful of David and chucked him into his room. Apparently garlic causes David to lose his freakin' mind.

As I was crawling around under the table trying to pick up tiny grains of rice from the carpet, David continued his little test of my patience. I don't do well with tests. I never have.

I heard a far-off giggling and my ears perked up. I know this giggle. This is not a good giggle. I hate this giggle. I ran to the source of the noise and found David by the toilet. Giggling. Oh crap.

After plucking my deodorant and a good portion of Angie's makeup out of the bowl, I opened a beer and suddenly the whole 'throwing shit in the toilet' game was pretty damn funny. Angie did not have a beer.

The kids spent the rest of the night using Aunt Christine's air mattress as a trampoline. I didn't approve, but Christine laughed and laughed and thought it was oh-so-funny until she went to bed later that night. I would be nice in calling my sister skinny, so unless it was one of her bones poking out, I am pretty sure that the boys had something to do with the air mattress blowing up. At that point, I opened another beer and laughed and laughed until Angie slapped me and told me it was not oh-so-funny. I offered her a beer. She declined.

David loved this new development, because it meant that we had to kick him out to Mama and Papa's room so that Chris could have his bed. Just watch out for spiders, snakes, bits of rice drenched in soy sauce, and any cosmetics that smell like toilet cleaner.

Tom decided to join in and make things interesting by starting to teethe. At age 3 months. Mama did not find this new milestone quite as hilarious as Papa, but I must repeat that Angie did not have a beer.

Before going to bed, Angie asked me what I had planned for tomorrow. I'm not sure, but if the phrase 'I like trains' comes up before my morning slug of adrenaline, I may be off to the store to buy a ball-gag and some masking tape.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we go to the castle and I like the picnic.
David: When Patrick came.
Patrick: My best part of today was eating.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When my belly hurt because I drink too much juice.
David: When Peter cry 'cause his tummy hurts - the really, really big belly owa.
Patrick: When I cried - it's because somebody hit me and I cry - somebody who was very bad and I fall on the very hard floor. That's why I was crying.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Dalia.
David: When Stephanie shake her head at me and laugh again.
Patrick: I would like to go on the train.


  1. Thanks, Jonny's Mommy - or maybe I should now call you Patrick's Mommy?

    Just sayin'

  2. Man - Destructo-Dave must have made a BIG impression on Patrick: I mean - what's up with his worst-part-of-the-day-explanation?
    ..."when SOMEBODY hit me, SOMEBODY really bad..".
    That sound like " I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
    .. You shouldn't let David wear those Italian sheer sweat suits that often...

  3. What makes you think it was Destructo Dave? Other than the 150 blogs from last year, of course. :-)