|  The Pea still loves trains.  Actually, she loves all forms of transporation. But there was a train expo, so we took her to it, thinking she would love it.
 She did.
 The ads said there were lots of things for kids to do there, but when we first walked in, it looked (and smelled) like about a hundred grandpas decided to gather the junk from their sheds together and call it a train expo. There were more cardboard boxes full of god-knows-what than I could count and the lay-out needed... ummmmm.... let's say.... it needed someone with an eye for the general aesthetics of a space.
 Okay, I know this picture is ridiculous and blurry, but it has a point and that point is JAISIE IS NOT AFRAID OF ANYTHING and that makes me afraid - very afraid. This boys were twice her size and age and she about gave me (and Nany) a heart attack jumping in there with them. They could've squashed her like a bug (and don't think they weren't trying to!).
 And she loved it - the scarier the better!
 We've been searching all over for a wooden train table with a lid for Christmas and haven't been able to find one. They didn't have one at the expo, either. So, if you come across one, definitely let us know!
 This pic was taken right before she crashed some little boy's train. He was not pleased.
 She was enamored with this exhibit, but I can't say much about it because it ended up being a present for somebody who reads this here blog.
 She didn't want to leave.
 My favorite story from this week is sort of an oddball one. At tuck-in, I always say her prayers with her with one eye open. If you're a parent or have experience with toddlers, you'll totally understand this. If not, you might think our parenting skills leave a bit to be desired (and, yes, they might, but you'd be wrong on this account). Our sweet-as-candy babygirl has a propensity to hit and throw things at me. Whatever she can get her hands on - binky, camera, stick, remote control, baby, babydoll, apple - it doesn't matter. If she can hurt me with it, she will.
 Pre-Jaisie, I firmly believed that people teach people to hit. Oh, how wrong I was. They just come out hitting (and pointing) all on their own. Trust me when I say this is one little girl who has never witnessed anyone or anything being hit by anyone or anything ever anywhere. There is no doubt in my mind, now, hitting is inherent. Period.
 No, I'm not showing her how to hit, in this one. We're just doing "Choo-choo" while riding the train (or, rather, I'm doing "Choo-choo" and Jaisie's totally ignoring me). Okay, back to my story of the week. So, tonight during tuck-in prayers, I've got one eye half-open and Jaisie says "I not hurt you Momma!" Now, I'm not sure if that meant "You can close your eyes all the way Momma and I won't punch you in the gut out of the blue" or if it meant "I didn't hit you at all today Momma!", but any way you look at it, it's enough to break (warm?) a Momma's heart.
 This comes after what happened yesterday when the two of us were sitting on the couch watching Merry Madagascar. All was right with our world. The Pea looked at me, looked back at the t.v., looked at me again and then whacked me upside the head with her little arm. Oh, but that's not all. Then, she got down, went over to the stairs, sat down, said "Sit on naughty stair" and counted with her tiny finger up in the air "One, two, three!" Then, she says "No hit Momma!", walks back over to the couch, climbs up, gives me a kiss on the cheek, says "Sorry Momma!", sits back down and resumes watching her show. Just like nothing happened. What the heck? Did my little child of the corn just decide her own discipline, weigh it against the offense, determine it was worth it and then carry the whole thing out? Uh, yeah, she did.
 When Daddy got home from work, the first thing she said to him was "No hit Momma naughty stair!" (The first thing she said to him tonight was "Tinkle on Momma!", but that's a whole 'nother story.) So, after that, I think we made it clear that there are other consequences to hitting. Who knows how much she gets, really? I mean she's two. But she didn't hit me, today, not even once. And I'm pretty sure that's what she was referring to at tuck-in. But we'll never know.
 The one thing I do know for sure is that it had been at least six months since I last sung her the lullaby song at bedtime and tonight she asked me to "Sing lullaby and good-night Momma song". Well, isn't that just great! I thought their hippocampus wasn't supposed to be developed enough to have long-term memory at that age. Fabulous! I wonder what else she remembers that she's not supposed to. To sum up this whole story, right before we turned off the lights, she gave me an eskimo kiss... all on her own accord. Which, by the way (if you're not familiar with toddlers), totally makes up for any and everything else. And is a perfect example of one of the little things that make it all worth it.
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