After living in a house full of pretty pink and purple princess patooey for the past 6 years (couldn't think of another "p" word to continue on perfecting my pentabulous party of alliteration), we brought something in that has "boy" written all over it. For Nathan's 2 year old birthday, he received a...drum roll please...train table.
Thinking the newness of the new adventure would be worn off in a couple of days, I am utterly amazed at how much the kid loves his train table and trains. And by love, I mean luuuuuuuuuuuuv. From the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to bed, he is usually in his room...planning, tearing apart tracks, calling for someone to help him rebuild them, watching the trains go round and round, and generally wearing down a multitude of batteries in his battery-powered engines. He even puts them all to bed from time to time in their own little sections of the train house, or whatever that thing is called. Spying from his bedroom door, I saw him kiss and hug each individual engine, tell him "night-night" and tuck him into his train stall. He runs up to me periodically through the day with as many trains as he can carry and asks "What is this?" in perfect pronounciated adorableness, which is code for "What is this train's name?" Because trains have names, don't you know. I surely didn't until the incredible world of freaky faced engines entered out lives and quickly became an intense favorite of sir toddlerlot.
And every night, as I tuck the little guy in with his "wassy" (paci) and Tebow, he now asks for a train to hold onto as he falls fast asleep. Hector, the coal carrier, is his favorite.