{My wonderful husband gave me a really great anniversary gift this year: a redesigned blog (and some really beautiful flowers too). I'm loving the new look and feel of The Grand. There are several new features built into this design, so I'll try to point a few of them out as I take advantage of them. Look around, be amazed at Jason's talent, and let us know if you find anything that needs some tweaking.}

I’ve long been charmed by kids’ obsessions and wondered what kinds of things my kids would be into. Simon’s first real interest was in airplanes—in fact, he was so interested in them that I entertained the idea of redecorating his room; we went to every airshow we could find last summer. More recently we went through a period of time where we watched Buzz! (Toy Story) almost every day. I thought for a while that tractors were going to be his next big thing. Or maybe construction vehicles. But while he likes his tractors, his cars, his dinosaurs, his play kitchen, nothing has even come close to his fascination with trains.

{Bigger photos! Also, click on the photo and it will pop out.}

Simon’s love of trains had an admittedly rough start: for his first Christmas (he was eleven months old), he received a train that absolutely terrified him (the giver shall remain nameless to protect my sister’s anonymity). To this day, he still won’t play with the Devil Train, though he does cautiously visit in the corner every once in a while, and we recently learned that he knows its name (Debawh Choo Choo).

The real obsession, of course, started with Thomas: Thomas videos, Thomas books, Thomas t-shirts (his favorite piece of clothing to this day), Thomas for Christmas (redemption for the Devil Train gifter), Thomas for his birthday, Thomas for bedtime stories. And so on (and on and on).

A few months ago, his passion for all things Thomas expanded to include any and all kinds of trains. And that’s when my days became all trains, all the time. To be fair, Simon’s enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself enabling his budding interest in ferroeqinology, and liking it. Trains—and much of their history and the culture surrounding them—are actually quite interesting.

I admit that we’ve altered some of our habits in order to incorporate more trains into our daily lives:

• In our almost-daily quest to find “choo choos go!” I have found two railyards in Lincoln (who knew?).
• Instead of trying to avoid being stuck while a train passes at a crossing, we actually slow down (or speed up or take a detour) in order to be first in line.
• We have begun taking Highway 6 every time we go to Omaha. The tracks run right along the highway all the way to Gretna.
• We watch lots of train videos on YouTube (literally videos that people have taken of trains crossing).
• We review colors by naming Thomas’s friends (Toby is brown, Gordon is blue, etc.) and numbers by counting cars.

Although it’s kind of staggering when I really start to think about how much we talk about, look for, watch, and play trains, I do think that it falls into normal two-year-old behavior. I don’t know yet if Simon will be a lifelong rail fan or if he’ll “move on” in a few months or years. For now, though, I’m really enjoying watching him learn and explore and collect and wonder.

{Now there's a gallery where I can add photos related to an entry. You may have already noticed if you clicked on the picture above.}

Gallery

There are plenty of things that I complain about this time of year, but I just can’t get enough of the blue skies, green fields, and white clouds of a Nebraska summer.

A list of links that have caught my eye over the past month* or so. *I hope to make this a more regular feature, so maybe I can work that “month or so” down to “week or so.”

This is old news by now, but the Pioneer Woman picked one of my photos for one of the groups in her recent Water assignment. I was (and still am) thrilled. (She also used it for the thumbnail for the entry, so it’s still featured when you find the article in her archives.)

Obvious Tips for Not-Very-Good Homemakers (a regular feature on the blog Every Day I Write the Book) makes me feel normal. I especially like this installment. (HT to Rebecca for e-mailing me the link.)

Mila’s Daydreams is hands-down the cutest site on the Internet, and I mean that in the best sense. Mila’s mommy tries to imagine what the little babe is dreaming about. It’s truly wonderful. I really love them all, but these are my favorites (so far). Via

Sarah has a nice entry (with lots of links) about World Breastfeeding Week (August 1–7). Ian and I will be celebrating several times a day all week long.

I really liked this article about apologizing to kids. Unfortunately it’s something I need to do more often than I want to admit. For specifics, I’ve really been trying to follow my dear friend Jamie’s example.

The Pen Story makes me want to go out and buy film and shoot it all up and develop it old-school. (Simon and I have watched this delightful stop-motion video five or six times.) Via

Yesterday we took Aunt Rhonda (Da!) to the zoo. We arrived just before lunchtime, so we just did kind of an abridged version of our normal visit (we do almost the same things every time): fed the goats (one little pellet at a time), washed our hands, skipped the eagle’s next, skipped the butterfly pavilion, imitated whatever the wallabies were doing (laying down), marveled at the tortoises, played in the sand (but not for 20 minutes), ran through the sprinkler (but only twice), skipped the monkeys and the spider web, breezed past the camels, walked right on past the gibbons (we usually do anyway), fed the lion (“Paper, paper, paper! I just looooooove eating paper!” It gets in my head every time I hear it), climbed on the playground (but not for 15 minutes), sat on the bear, jumped in the eggs (but not for 10 minutes), pointed out the new chicks, strolled past the otter (he was sleeping), said hi to the turtles, forgot all about the crocodile, created distractions so that Simon didn’t realize we were skipping the bald eagle and the telescope on the way up the hill, and, finally, rode the choochoo (we usually just wave good-bye instead of riding, but it was a special treat with Aunt Da).

My favorite exchange this time:

Me: Hey, Simon, can you tell Rhonda what these big animals are called? Can you tell her they’re camels?
Simon: No, no, no, Mommy. Those are biiiiiig goats!

I’ve been sitting here seriously considering the 100 Strangers project.* Just now a man, probably my parents’ age, finished up visiting with a young acquaintance (I’d guess early twenties). As the younger guy stood up to leave, the man commented on his Bible (ESV in the box, a gift from his parents according to his girlfriend). The man held up his Blackberry and said, “Here’s my Bible. Just hit ‘Jesus.’ Get all the answers you want.” I so wish I had my camera with me—I would have asked him to be my first stranger portrait. Darn.

*I’ve heard about this kind of project for a while. It intrigues and scares me. Once in a while I read about someone who is doing it *because* it scares them, which I just don’t understand. I think I might like it if I would just take my time and not get stressed out about getting it done.

Me: Hey, what’s your name, Bud?

Simon: Iss Simon [kinda sounds like “Tye-bon”].

Me: Okay, what’s your brother’s name?

Simon: Baby Een.

Me: What’s Daddy’s brother’s name?

Simon: Hans Baby. [We worked on the concept that Hans is Jason’s brother like Ian is Simon’s brother.]

Me: What’s Mommy’s sister’s name?

Simon: Da [Rhonda].

Me: Okay, here’s a harder one: what is Mommy’s daddy’s name? [I was going for “Papa.”]

Simon: [Long pause] . . . Mama’s dada!

Last week we drove out to Colorado to visit the Sittlers for a few days that went all too quickly. These are a handful of my favorite photos from the trip. You can see more here.

Shelli is my oldest friend (in the sense that we’ve been friends the longest, not that she’s aged). We’ve been friends for twenty-five years, and she’s got at least five years on anyone else (well, except Neil; we all grew up together). Often when we get together I just get overwhelmed—in the best way possible—that yesterday we were twelve years old, thinking it was cool to call into Sweet 98, somewhat seriously wanting the Altar Boys to play at our weddings, and making up pretend conversations that our future husbands would have, and that today here we are holding each other’s kids.

These two were often at odds—it’s pretty hard to share when you’re two. But when they played together, oh my. The cuteness paralyzed me. Ezra absolutely melts my heart with his sweetness. And his affirmative grunts—well, you probably just have to hear it, but he’s hilarious.

Simon’s near-constant companion for the week was this little red guitar. He has recently taken up air guitar as well.

Asher is a delightfully energetic kid. I adore his funny, random ways. And he can run like a cheetah; it’s really something to see.

One of the things I did on our vacation was read my camera’s manual. I like how this picture turned out—and especially because I made the silhouettes on purpose.

It’s hard to describe why Neil is so cool and funny. He just is.

Because are you kidding me? Look at this guy!

This morning after we had played our hearts out in a new-to-us park, we ventured into the surrounding neighborhood for a long(ish) walk. Simon led the way, dutifully reaching for my hand whenever he wanted to cross a street (so sweet). Ian dozed in the stroller; his only request was that we keep moving at a steady, even if slow, pace. Simon stopped for sticks, occasionally trading for a bigger one; tried to peek into garbage cans (no no, blechy) or recycling bins (no no, blechy); pointed out the spots where recent rains had washed dirt across the sidewalk (unlike every other kid on the planet, he thinks dirt is “uh-oh!”); and squatted to check out dried “babies” (trans. baby worms). At one point he stooped to dig a stick into the crack of a sidewalk and lingered for a good five minutes before Ian reminded us it was time to move on (perhaps Ian was also feeling the displeasure of the woman across the street who kept peeking out her window at us shady characters).

It was my kind of morning. I love a good ramble—not the adult kind of rambling that happens when you’re restless and listless and bored, but the kid kind of ramble, when you’re just wandering around because, you know, what else are you doing? When every squirrel and bird is worth celebrating. When around every corner is an adventure. Or not. Whatever.