In a last ditch effort to enjoy Owen's summer vacation, I loaded the kids in the van and did the one thing I knew he'd love no matter what. We went to the Baltimore Train Museum. I must have made the right decision because the second the GPS gace away where we were going, Owen started yelling "Train museum, train museum!"
We have a membership and I have no idea how many times we've used it but it's somewhere between "Holy shit are we going there again" and "I'd rather listen to polka than enter that fucking building." While I'm totally over it, Owen LOVES it! He runs into that building like they're giving away free gold bullion. I don't get it but whatever, the membership has more than paid for itself.
During the summer the outdoor things are open. There's a train they can ride, a carousel (I hate those things, just watching it makes me feel nauseous) and a model train set that Owen LOVES!
I think Owen's next favorite thing is the train car with the model trains. He runs up and down the track chasing it. Weird.River likes spotting the cars.
In celebration of summer I allowed them to basically eat their weight in cheese curls. I never let them eat cheese curls. The only reason they know what that is, is because Owen got them as a snack at school last year and begged for them every time we went to Giant. I can count on One hand how many times I gave in and bought them for him..."0"....but he keeps trying. So this was a special treat for them both. It might have been the first time River had ever had them but she worked it out. She had so much orange shit on her face that even after I cleaned her, she looked jaundiced. She would have done better with a hose down.
This is about the time I starting my inner pleading and tried to find an exit route. Here's the problem with that museum, being inside the museum is like being outside except with no air and the only breeze comes from a running child. It's hot as shit in there and I sweat buckets while the kids wanted to play dress up.
I tried to look happy but the only thing more annoying than no air in the museum is telling Owen that it's time to go. He throws his hand on his hip and starts growling, as evidenced in the first photo.
So, this is me today, taking shit from my kid for trying to breathe. Can a sista get some air?