"The Train Wash"

Gabe has been at school the past 3 days, and today was his first day off... He got up at 7 a.m., watched Noggin until 9 a.m., ate 2 blueberry waffles, and has been in his room playing with trains ever since (it's now almost 1 p.m.). Before I sat down to catch up on the blog (today, if you haven't noticed the previous entries yet, I have become a post-dating fool! Finally, some time to do this...) Anyway, I was looking for my glasses and my glass-cleaner-wiper-rag (I have no idea what the official term is, so I made one up), and I couldn't find it. Glasses, yes. Rag, no. So I went into Gabe's room, and this is what I found:

"What in the world is this, Gabe? Mommy needs that for her glasses," I say. I pick it up and he Freaks Out.

"Mom!!! That's my train wash!" 

I look closer, and start laughing hysterically. He had set up his very own "Train Washing Business," where Thomas and his friends Henry and Percy drove through to get washed. He told me all about it, his face filled with glee. But I still needed the rag, so I gave him a washcloth, hoping this would appease him:

It seemed to, and he has been washing, washing, washing ever since.

He has quite a bright imagination. I love watching it unfold. 

On another Gabe-note, he really enjoyed pouncing on the air bed my Mom slept on while she was here and on her last day, she had set aside the device that you attach to the blower-upper machine (another term I've invented) on the mattress. Well, Gabe dashes off into the room and she tells him not to jump on the bed and one second later I hear him Screaming and Crying and "Mommmm!!!" I rush in and there he is, blood all over his face and a bruise in the shape of a circle to match the device's end on his cheek, centimeters away from his eye (thank Goodness it missed) and as I am comforting him he says, "I need a SpongeBob band aid!" I wish I could be comforted so easily in life's hurdles with such a thing, but if it works for him, wonderful. He spent two full days after the incident looking like this. Oh, Gabe. 

I guess this also serves as a 'before' and 'after' pic of his hair cut... He looks so much more handsome with it short but I can't help but shed a tear or two every time he goes for a hair cut. It's so bad I have Manny take him. To me, it's one more cut to him becoming an even bigger Boy and that lil' Baby disappears a little more each time. Am I being totally dramatic about a haircut or are there other Moms who feel or have felt the same?