Last week Brent and I decided to head to Chattanooga on Friday evening to spend the weekend with the portion of my family who lives there. My Granny turned 81 on Thursday and my Aunt Wanda invited us up to help celebrate. Brent had the brilliant idea to take Ephraim and Sarah (but specifically Ephraim) on the Tennessee Valley Railway while we were in the area.
This idea was given a big thumbs up by our choo choo loving boy.
And it was given a big earplug by our noise-hating girl.
Don’t worry, she survived.
We arrived at the station at half past ten (I feel the need to speak proper old English when discussing the boarding of our train) and waited patiently (well, three of us) to board.
I helped Brent out by taking photographs when the train arrived. He didn’t need me anyway. He’s Father of the Year.
There was some discussion before boarding about how B-Ro might react to the train ride. We decided it would either by complete and utter complacency or something akin to a Publisher’s Clearinghouse winner being handed the big check.
You decide.
Complacency?
Or big check?
Figures.
Ah well, the ride must go on!
Oh look, here’s the fifteen year old conductor…
And finally the beginnings of a look the Prize Patrol can be proud of…
Oh nevermind, forget I said that.
In reality B-Ro was only moderately interested in the train ride. He was a fan of the tunnel and the seatbelt-less freedom and the baby* next to us. Oh and the Sprite we had at the halfway point.
Other than that, if you’ve seen one squirrely two year old on an enclosed moving vehicle, you’ve seen ‘em all.
His complacency didn’t stop the rest of us from putting on our big check grins though!
My girl and I don’t need much of an excuse to pull out our cheek-to-cheek pose…
And I have to say I’m pretty pleased to have an updated picture of myself that I think looks…well…like ME. I posted this on Facebook earlier and my sister jumped all over me for mentioning my crow’s feet. “Why do you always have to say something bad about the way you look everytime you post a picture of yourself?”, she said. She’s right. So ignore the fact that I mentioned mentioning my crow’s feet on Facebook on my blog.
Besides, I kind of like crow’s feet. They make you look…nice…
This dude has pretty cute ones when he smiles.
Then again,
he also has an uncanny knack for looking exactly like his crazy daughter…
Um, scary, right?
And thus ended our day on the choo choo train.
And any mention of crow’s feet.
And any plans to take B-Ro on a train ride again.
*I told Brent we should have saved our $32.00 and just had another baby instead. He replied, “It was $36.00 and are you crazy?“
I’m trying to quit being a stalker, but really I think it would be much easier if you could figure out a way for me to just click that I “like” your posts akin to facebook (so I get credit for coming out of the woodwork but don’t have to do much to get there). Part of the tendency to be a stalker, I think, comes from the lack of something clever to say sometimes. Or just laziness. Like how I just asked you to figure out how to create something to enable my slothful, stalk-ish nature. Nevermind.
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