Day 4 of summer vacation was spent going to Pennsylvania Dutch country where we took a 30-minute ride on a steam engine, perused the train gift store (or ran through it like rioting chimpanzees, depending on who you were), and viewed the locomotive museum. Whereas some of us find museums to be only slightly less yawn-inducing than attending a lecture on the history of the umlaut or reading a book about the patent history of the paperclip (the latter of which, by the way, Mommy just read), apparently train museums are the legal version of crack-cocaine to little boys.
Upon boarding the steam engine, we all promptly took our seats. Nothing, from Hesperos' perspective, is complete unless it has been christened by his drool. Consequently, to Mommy's horror, Hesperos, at first opportunity, latched onto the seat that has hosted the backs of thousands of tourists (shudder) and decided to chomp on its plush goodness. Helios, oblivious to germs, people, food, or, in fact, anything at all, echoed the train whistle at every opportunity shouting "choo-choo!" While Hesperos was passed from lap-to-lap, including a visit to Uncle Agrippa's lap (Uncle Agrippa apparently has a fascination with chubby babies, although we drew the line at comments about cankles and large thighs), Helios practically bounced from side to side of the passenger car in order to admire the train from all possible angles.
Later we visited the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania (yawn) where Helios gleefully wound his way around engines of all sizes and ages, demonstrating spritely interest reminiscent of his uncles the first time they saw the bar waitresses at The Library in Tempe, AZ. Hesperos was more pragmatic in his appreciation, confining his tastes to a well-placed chomp or two on a book about the Little Red Caboose.