Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Classic Songs

 My husband and son were watching the Monty Python video "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" from the Life of Brian.  The lyrics are not safe for kindergarten, but it is a classic. 

The movie is completely irreverent if you haven't seen it.  I don't want to link to it, as I don't think that's kosher, but definitely go to youtube and search.  You'll find the video.  

Then, a few days ago, my son was attempting to talk me into purchasing something for him.  "Then you give me some money" was the phrase used.  I couldn't pass up watching this video with him.  ("Bad Checks, anything"). 



 No copyright infringement intended. 

Monday, June 29, 2009

*I* like trains

So I've mentioned that my son is obsessed with trains.

If I never see another Thomas video, it will be too soon. I do know this is something he loves, so I maintain an uneasy alliance with it.

But I realized as I was visiting my parents over the weekend, I love trains. My parents live around 200 feet from an active freight railway. Sometimes as many as two or three freight trains will go by in a given hour.

And they live around six blocks from another railway where I could ride the train all the way to my college. Some of my best memories are of riding various passenger railways (here and in Russia).

In college, the trains were one of the first things people (who weren't used to them) noticed. There were train whistles throughout the night.

Someone once characterized my college town as a sleepy railway town - and it was.

Perhaps the appreciation for trains is easier, living where I do now, where I am not often stopped in my car at a crossing. I can visit occasionally, listen to the rumbling of cars and screeching of brakes. But I'm not forced to confront these things on a regular basis.

From my vantage point, train engines are pretty stunning, some could consider them majestic.

Perhaps it helped that over my vacation, each time a freight train rumbled past my son (and daughter) would run to the window delighted.