Fluffy White Cold Stuff

Yesterday it rained. At least, that's what I assumed it was until Mommy pointed out that it was frozen rain -- more specifically, "snow." That word is more fun to say than "rain" anyway.

She bundled me up in last year's coat (which apparently fits me everywhere except in the sleeves, which are too short, so my mittens let in snow at the wrists and -- brrrr! -- the skin there got all red. And cold. Did I mention snow is cold?) and out we went to explore.
After swiping all the snow off the deck railing around the ship's wheel, my friend Torin (rhymes with Soren) and I threw snow blobs (you could hardly call them balls, as they wouldn't stick together) at his mom and tried not to hit Baby Biorn, who was strapped on her back.

This was the first snow of the winter and I don't really remember the last time I got to play in snow. Mom says it was in October of last year, when we visited Auntie Nono in Colorado. It didn't really snow at all in Port Townsend last winter.
We walked to Aldrich's Grocery for a hot chocolate, which I accidentally spilled all down my snowsuit, and then walked home with my friend Zia. She showed me how fun it was to roll around on the ground in the snow, and to make snowpiles and knock them down. We made a snow tower on top of this fire hydrant and that was really fun!
I wasn't quite so sure about this ride from my neighbor. His dad had taken the bindings off a pair of skis and bolted on a folding chair. The two sticks of wood dragging behind were supposed to be hand brakes. I just rode it a while on the flat street. I'm not quite ready to ride with the big boys yet!
But best of all was spending the whole afternoon out of doors with my mommy. She loves me and I love her. Plus, she is the best nose-wiper ever. (She says I'm the best nose-blower. We make a good team.)

If you've got snow wherever you are, enjoy the fluffy white cold stuff and STAY WARM. I can recommend a hot water bottle for cold toes after snow play.

P.S. My last blog post was about my Nannie and Papaw's bike ride across the country. Well, they're almost across. They're in Florida with less than a week to go before they reach the Atlantic Ocean. It's 75 degrees there! Check out their blog. I can't wait for them to come home!

NOTE FROM SHELLY: Any suggestions for toddler "wrist gaiters"? Snow down Soren's wrists is a serious problem. I have a pair of Jeff's SmartWool socks with holes in them and am planning to cut off the feet to make two tubes that I can slide over his mittens and jacket sleeves. But I'm open to suggestions, especially from those of you in snowier climes!

Ah, a quick web search turns up the L-Bow Mitten. How clever! (But out of stock...)

OK, here's a DIY solution, which prompted me to leave the feet on the socks and just snip an opening two inches down from the toe where the thumb of Soren's mitten can slip through. Now they look more like this $20 "wrist gaiter" (I didn't make up the term!) from Marmot, only with a mitten-shaped top. If Soren resists this, I can lop off the toe but leave the mitten thumb hole to help the socks stay on his forearms.

I'll post the results!

My Nannie's Biking Cross-Country

...but not on this wheeled vehicle, don't worry. She and Papaw are riding real bicycles, and they are almost halfway from California to Florida. They send me postcards and Mom and I pin them up on a big map of the U.S.

I do miss them, and when Mom first explained where Nannie and Papaw were, I thought they had moved to Arizona. Whew, I was sure glad to find out that wasn't true. They are just on a long trip that include Arizona (they're in Texas now), and when they get back they'll have lots of stories to tell me. I get to hear some of them on their blog, which I understand I inspired them to start. "If our grandson can blog, so can we!" Check it out here:
testermantravels.blogspot.com

I'm learning to ride a bike so I can go on bicycle adventures, too. For my second birthday (see post on Mom's blog), Grandpa Jim and Grandma Glory got me a balance bike! It doesn't have pedals, but I can push it with my feet and coast, and and steer with the handlebars and everything. In fact, I'm getting so fast, Mom & Dad make me wear my helmet whenever I get astride my Strider bike.

That's what it's called, a Strider, and I'll share some videos that inspire me -- of kids not much older than me really zipping along:
http://www.stridersports.com/strider-bikes-in-action/

If I can learn to ride this balance bike, I won't have to use training wheels to ride a bigger bike. And when I can ride a big bike, maybe Nannie and Papaw will take me on a big ride. I hope.

Two Trains in One Weekend ~ And a Car!

We leave Portland tomorrow, but already it's been quite a weekend. I got to ride trains two days in a row! OK, today's choo-choo was quite a bit tamer -- and smaller -- than yesterday's (see last post), but it was still cool. See me and Dad in the second seat back?

The train made one slow circuit of Oaks Amusement Park, a place filled with kids, swirling colors and noises, screams, and something my parents called a "funhouse mirror" that made our family look like three little dwarfs.

We were with Auntie Jill, and she had suggested we stop by Oaks Park after a full day at Fort Vancouver (another story entirely) to ride the carousel. Which we did, but that wasn't the highlight.

That might have been watching Daddy act like a little kid in his first go at Bumper Cars...

...but to be honest, I'd have to say the highlight for me was driving this car. Just me. In the driver's seat. We were probably going 25 miles per hour, I'd say. Round and round, and I got to spin the wheel as much as I liked with no danger of veering off course.

When the ride was over and we started to walk away, I had a sudden panic that I'd never get a chance like this again, so I started yelling, "Again! Again!" Bless their hearts, my parents listened and gave me another ticket to drive the car again.

Twice was enough. I was happy then to go watch Jill flip upside down on the roller coaster. Hmmm, how tall do you have to be to ride that one?? Maybe next year.

Riding the Rails in Chehalis

My obsession with all things TRAIN stepped up to a new level this weekend when I got to ride my first STEAM TRAIN. Oh, yeah! A 2-8-8 Mikado, circa 1916. She is a beaut. And when she lets off steam -- well, watch out!

Here she is shunting one of the passenger cars out of the shed, right before our 1-1/4 hour ride down the old Milwaukee Road track between Centralia and Chehalis, Washington.

When we stopped en route to Portland to visit Auntie Jill, I had no idea that Mom and Dad had this fabulous surprise in store for me. Sure, I spend hours each day hunched over my Thomas the Train tracks, and lately I've fallen asleep clutching my favorite engines, Thomas and James, but how did they know I'd been hoping beyond hope to ride a real steam train?? They know me so well.

I was riveted, and I'm not punning. The three of us rode in the open passenger car (a converted flatbed car) behind the engine almost all the way -- until it started to rain really hard. It had already been misting on us as the steam from the smokestack condensed and the water vapor blew back in our faces, along with a little soot from the used motor oil the engine burned. I didn't care. I didn't even cover my ears when the steam whistle blasted. I felt it was all part of the experience, and I didn't want to miss any of it.

The ride was very scenic, through farmland with lots of neigh-neighs and moo-moos. I waved at all the cars on the many rural road crossings.

When we reached the end of the track, the engine shifted onto a siding and chuffed past our cars in reverse, then pulled us home backwards. From the open half-door at what was now the front of the first car, I could feel the heat from the boiler in the nose of the engine and watch the whirling axles spinning the wheels that are taller than I am.

I was sorry when the train ride was over, but then serendipity kicked in. We went to the engine cab and asked if we could take a look, and the friendly crew invited us up. While were were looking around, the engineer said did we mind riding with them while they moved the engine in preparation for the next ride?

My parents had to accept the offer for me. I was struck silent with awe and couldn't have spoken if I wanted to. So we got to ride in the moving cab, and Mom got a video to prove it. See the next post!

Thanks to my fellow train enthusiasts at the Chehalis-Centralia Railroad Museum. I think you just recruited your newest, youngest fan. (Dad says as soon as I get my driver's license, I can make the 3-hour trip to come volunteer!)

Me and the Fireman

Here's the aforementioned 13-second video, shot yesterday on the Chehalis-Centralia Railroad. That's me on the seat next to Fireman Jeff -- he's pulling the bell rope. The scan across the firebox shows the big steam gauge at the top -- 150 pounds of pressure is what this engine likes, I learned. Then you see Engineer Josh pulling on the whistle cord. Toot, toot!

I watched this video 20 times back to back before I consented to going to bed tonight. You enjoy, too!

My Cruise Debut

Just last week I found my sea legs on the Rotterdam and a whole lot of other adventures, too.

Cruising life has much to recommend it. I most enjoyed the opportunity to expand my horizons, discover new lands, see the sights -- from the safety of Dad's shoulders, of course.
I sang the praises of the spectacular Alaska scenery...
...when I wasn't playing with my train tracks or being mesmerized by the one Thomas the Train DVD my parents brought along. I didn't even mind that I had to watch it 20 times.
I got to stay up late almost every night. My favorite haunt was the piano bar, where the fabulous Neptunes (piano, bass, drums) played each night and folks took to the dance floor for waltzes, rhumbas, and the fast and furious mommy swing, pictured here.

The piano player, Raddy, performed a variation of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" for me. For me! Twice I feel asleep in Dad's arms listening to his twinkling fingers across the keys.
One night my mom got to sing with the Neptunes, since she was the only person aboard who knew all the verses to "Rocky Top" -- an especial request of a guest from Tennessee. "My only qualification for being up here is that I was born in Tennessee and grew up hearing this song," she said before launching into a darn good rendition of one of my favorite songs, too. Everyone clapped. No one booed. If they had, I would have kicked their shins.
I got to watch a couple of the Broadway-style shows in the theatre, and after being wowed by the special effects (shifting lights, steam!) and the positive role models of handsome men in tuxes singing and dancing, I decided I should go into show business myself. I practiced drawing the curtains in our cabin's porthole window and flinging them open again to reveal myself and Baby. Mom and Dad kindly applauded my early efforts.
But the highlight of the cruise ship for me was the pool. I mean, is this not the pool of your dreams? The retractable roof was open much of the time, and the water sloshed with the movement of the ship, like a real wave pool. The water was WARM.
Dad and I zoomed in circles. He and Mom threw me back and forth between them. And I jumped off the edge I don't know how many times. I like to go under water!
I always ended our daily (or sometimes twice daily) pool session with a dip in one of the hot tubs. A perfect time to get cozy with my Mommy.
And while my parents oohed and aahed over the desserts, the omelets, the smoked salmon, I discovered a new culinary taste of my own: cheese. Or at least, that's what I called those artfully wrapped pats of butter, which by the end of the cruise my parents would allow me one per meal. By the time I unwrapped it and licked it bit by bit, they could nearly be done eating. Or at least one of them would get up and chase me around then. I've got them trained to do this fairly well.
You can read more about the trip on my family's blog and see why I'd be happy as a clam to go cruising again.

Wow! I Wanna Bike Across America, Too

Mom has been too busy lately to even download the pictures of me from her camera, so I've been stuck with a lack of visual material for my blog. Not that I've been twiddling my thumbs -- far from it.

In the last few days, for example, I have:

• Gotten two scraped knees and a cut under my chin from falling off a playground bar. Mom, Dad, Papaw and Nannie conferred about whether I needed stitches and concluded if they weren't certain, I probably didn't need them.
• Assisted Mom with the balloon pump as she visited two classes at my playschool and made animal balloons for all the kids. Did I mention she was in her "Flora" clown costume? I wish I had my own red nose.
• Scored a bagful of Thomas the Train engines and cars from the thrift shop. Ten pieces for $2. Mom said that was a DEAL. I just like the way they attach with magnets and roll around my new railroad track.
• Cheered on runners at the Rhody Run, where my friend Noah's dad placed 10th overall. Way to go, Daddy Craig! We celebrated with a potluck at Noah's house and yummy burgers. Meat, mmm.
• Tested out my new bed, a big-boy crib with a cool tent over the top. Papaw and Nannie helped "rearrange the nursery" as they called it, while they were visiting mid-week. My Pack-n-Play is still set up, and some nights I sleep in it, but I've been napping in my crib. Mom says it's time to make the switch soon. I do like that I have more room to stretch out my legs.

OK, back to the subject of this post, and my borrowed visual aid. It's the blog of some really nice cross-country bicyclists I met about 10 days ago. Their names are Dick and Arlete and they were just starting a bike ride across the U.S., even though they are about my grandparents' age.

I understand this is a long way. A long, long way. I didn't know you could bike that far, but I guess people do it all the time. Even families with kids. (Hint, hint, Mom & Dad -- I could ride in the new trailer.)

Dick and Arlete tell the story rather well of meeting us through my Nannie and Papaw (who are signed up as Warm Showers hosts for touring bicyclists like them), so I'll just let them tell it.

Start with this May 5 entry, then read the next few "newer posts" by clicking the tiny link at the very bottom left of the page. Can you find my photo?

The SkyTrain of My Dreams

Although the SkyTrain sounds like a fictional storybook device, it really exists in Vancouver, B.C. You don't have to know a secret password or pay in gold coins to get a ticket, but you do have to slide a magic card through this giant computer. Fortunately, Matisse's dad had one of these in his wallet.

I guess you already know that my family visited Canada two weekends ago. (If you didn't, better catch up on your reading over at Mom's blog.) Our last day there it was pouring rain and I was worried we wouldn't get to go out, but our friends said, "What better day to ride the SkyTrain?"
It didn't matter that it was all wet outside, because we were inside the whole time. In fact, we were underground half the time. We started our journey by descending into a tunnel station. (Note the Winter Olympics poster behind me and Dad -- that great sporting event just wrapped up. No, we didn't go. This was my first trip to Canada.)
I've been a little obsessed with trains lately -- I don't need much encouragement to run through my litany of sound effects: choo, choo, toot, toot, ding, ding, pshhhhhhh (that's the steam pressure release valve). So this was pretty thrilling for me.
With a great whoosh of air, the train zoomed through the tunnel and stopped right in front of us. Doors slid open and we stepped aboard.
And much to my surprise, there was no one driving! My friend Matisse hustled to make sure we got the best seat: the front row, looking right out the windshield. We could pretend we were driving, which was cool, but didn't exactly answer my question about how the trains were moving or knew when to stop. Matisse said he figured the trains stopped at the stations because they didn't want their passengers to be late. Maybe... There was a man sitting behind us who looked to be in a hurry. We weren't, though.
We rode out to the airport, just for fun, crossing this arty bridge in the process. And several trains passed us going in the opposite direction. I kept looking for the engine or the caboose, to no avail. I really would rather ride a steam train. No offense, SkyTrain.
At the airport (a mere 15 or 20 minutes away), we got off and Mom got a coffee in the terminal and Matisse and I played around a giant sculpture. Then we rode the train home and I noticed it didn't even turn around at the end of the line, it just reversed direction. I guess it would be hard for a steam train to do that. OK, I will admit it was pretty cool to be watching jet planes take off out the window of our moving SkyTrain. A transportation nut's dream come true!
But all the excitement made me hungry -- and sleepy. I spent much of the ride back in Mommy's arms. Yawn...sweet dreams!

Ducks! Eggs! Quack!

You know our house is not Victorian -- it was built in 2002-03 -- but right next door sits this 1910-or-so Painted Lady. It used to be white and pink, but our neighbor, Ron, has been repainting it himself very slowly ever since I was born. The back wall is still the old colors.
Anyway, more to the point, Ron (and his wife Pat) keep ducks!! We hear them quacking every day at some time or another, and I like to quack back. I can't remember what breed they are (any clue, veterinarian Papaw?), but they are tall and thin and not one of them is yellow. The brown and white one is Louella, the black one is Jezebel and the brown one is Dootsea.
They lay eggs that are light blue-green. I know this because last month we got to duck-sit while our neighbors went on vacation, and that meant we got to find and keep the eggs!

They weren't hard to find. The ducks lay their eggs inside their little house that has a fenced-in run attached. See, there I am poking my head in the door and Pat is holding the eggs. I really wanted to crawl right in the house with the ducks, but when I got too close (like this), they got all flustered and Mom said I couldn't go in, that the house was their space. We lifted the roof off the house to collect the eggs, and only did that when the ducks were on the other side of the yard, eating.

Mostly they ate grain -- and bugs and slugs from the yard -- but here Ron is feeding them chopped-up chard.
I don't mean to be rude, but won't they go away again soon?? I rather relish the role of duck-sitting. I speak the language and all: Quack, quack!

Valentine's Day Painting

Most Fridays now I have a "playdate" at Ollie's Farm. That would be the farm at the end of F Street (yes, an in-town farm with a self-serve, year-round farm stand and everything) that his parents manage. Best of all, there are tractors. Real tractors and then this kid-sized John Deere, pictured here with Ollie at the wheel and friend Trillium leaning on it.
Ollie's mom Gina is an artist, and one day she set up paints and covered the table with brown paper and I got to paint Mom a Valentine's picture.
Despite the camera lens fogging up, can you tell what it is? I love you, Mama!

Babies -- Not One, But Two! (Make That Three)

So where do babies come from? That's easy -- from bellies!

In early December Mom and I visited her friend Marinka in Seattle and I got to "beep" her big tummy. Yes, "beep" -- the sound effect for pressing the belly button -- and big because (as she told me), there was a baby inside. (Her second.)
Well, in late January we visited Marinka again and the baby was out of her belly and snuggled into the Moby Wrap that I used to use. I remember how nice that feels...almost like being in Mommy's belly all over again! Anyway, the baby's name is Mila and she was 2-1/2 weeks old then and I think she looked kind of relieved not to be so cramped up anymore.

We get fall and spring all rolled into one here in the Pacific Northwest (winter -- what's winter?), so when we went to the park with Marinka and Mila, Mom tossed dried leaves for me and we generally had a good time. Thanks to Mama Marinka for taking these photos.


OK, on to the next baby in my life...
This is Baby Oliver, the first offspring of a couple Mom can claim to have introduced: Chris, her high school friend, and Corey, her college friend. Things seem to be working out between them, because after 3-1/2 years of marriage, they had Oliver.

He was about one month old here, and I showed him an advanced breastfeeding skill: reading while nursing. I don't expect Oliver to get it right away, as he's still a novice, but he can file it away for future reference.
And on the subject of babies, I'd better not forget Baby, pictured below. He's mine. Need I say more?