A few weeks ago, on December 5th, we ventured to the Museum (I've referenced it enough in this blog for all of you to know which one I mean) to take part in our first of what we hope to be annual trips to the Santa Train. Joining us were the Devers and the Garcias.
I'd love to write about the amazing and festive and magical time we had that night, our first of many Christmas celebrations for this year. But, sadly, I can't. You see, while I most often write on this blog about the wonderful and funny times we have as a happy family of four, sometimes things don't happen as I would have scripted them!
On the day of our Santa Train ride, it rained, non-stop, all day, enough that we worried that our train trip to the North Pole would be canceled. But, as luck would have it, the rain stopped just in time for the 5p start to the every-20-minute excursions. Our train didn't depart the station until 6p, so we had 30 minutes or so to wait. Which basically meant that Macie, who had long since fussed her way OUT of her stroller, had time to find, and toddle through, every rain puddle imaginable. And when you're less than 3 feet tall, puddles pretty much soak your entire lower half. You'll see in the pictures. Her jeans were wet up to her knees, making for a pretty miserable kiddo. Not to mention that she wouldn't keep her mittens on, so we were forced to put a pair of Dale's on her and pull them up over the sleeves of her coat. Let's just say that Macie was not exactly a fashion diva that night!
Ivie, on the other hand, really did have a good time. She was well-behaved and enjoyed riding the train, telling Santa what she wanted for Christmas (a baby stroller and crib - CHECK!), and checking in the woods for Rudolph, whom Santa said had run off and gotten lost in the woods. She also enjoyed sharing Daddy's hot chocolate, and managed to avoid spilling it all over herself. So, from our 3-year-old's perspective, it was a good night.
But back to Macie. By the time we made it back to the station after our train ride, she was fit to be tied. I think the hat, hood, oversized mittens, and wet jeans had pushed her over the edge. And she was hungry, too, which didn't help. She refused to go back into her stroller, pulling the all-too-familiar-to-parents-of-toddlers back-arching craziness. So we gave in and let her walk back to the car. Until, that is, she ventured off the concrete path into the grass. Which, at this point after a day of hard rain, was nothing but a mud pit. So now her white sneakers and pants were not only wet, but also covered in mud. GREAT. This left us no choice but to carry her, which made her even more angry.
Let's summarize by saying that by the time we got to the car, my nerves were shot. We were all cold, hungry, and down to very short fuses...
Then, as if it couldn't get any worse, I couldn't find the car key. I knew it wasn't lost, since I had unlocked the car and gotten the girls in their seats. But as I started to climb in myself, the key was nowhere to be found. It took Dale and me about 7 minutes of searching, and, today, 20 days after this outing, I have no idea where we eventually found it.
But don't worry. The evening was entirely salvaged by a trip to Bullock's BBQ with the Devers for dinner! Almost as if she knew we'd had a tough night, the hostess graciously put us in the back room. All by ourselves. So the girls, regardless of how loud they were, didn't disturb a soul. Ahhhhhh.
So that was our first adventure with the Santa Train. I have a feeling future rounds will be more calm. But maybe not as memorable!