Now you may be asking yourself, “What the heck did she do to Q?!?! He looks like he’s reached the brink and then went two more feet!!”*
Sheldon passed out in the car seat almost immediately afterwards.
This is what happens to small children they have TOO MUCH FUN!!
We went to Sacramento to visit cousins and the Train Museum….or as Q refers to it (with authority), “The Trainseum“.
Before going to the Trainseum, we snacked on garlic fries in Downtown Sacramento while we waited for Uncle Johnny to figure out how to park his car without getting a parking ticket (he still got a parking ticket).
After garlic fries, we realized we were hungry. So we did the only sane thing to do. We postponed the Trainseum for lunch at Joe’s Crab Shack on the river.
Luckily we sat outside…
…because we were sort of a crazy, loud, wild crew.
At the Crab Shack, I felt it was my duty to try crab. Bleh. It tastes like fishy nothing, and it’s impossible to eat. Next time I’m ordering a Cobb Salad.
Here’s a token picture of two cute babies. The one in the red is Jake, and you can read the amazing poem his mommy wrote about him here. The one in the green is Sheldon. I didn’t write him a poem…he’s deprived.
At the train museum, for the first time ever, my two year old stopped his orbit while the rest of the world swirled around him.
Can you believe how giant that train is? The wheels are the size of my husband!
Interesting note about the train museum: all the docents are cute old silver haired gentlemen who like to make faces at babies and try their darnedest to interest preschoolers in railroad history.
Interesting note about my husband: he thought I was making up the word “docent”.
Interesting note about me: I was a docent in 4th grade at our local city museum for school. I dressed like a pioneer girl, and my mom made me a bonnet.
My guys love trains!
All in all, it was a fun day at the Trainseum. The end of the trip was less picture perfect, with a long drive home, lots of screaming, indigestion, and Veggie Tales, but we still had fun.
* that little bottle in Q’s fist is a train in a bottle. It took us three hours to convince him that he couldn’t get it out. He tried to fish it out with a straw, he tried shaking it, he tried yelling at it. It was making him crazy. Helpful tip: Don’t buy your kid a train in a bottle unless you’re prepared to explain how it got in there, and why it can’t get out.