Sam on the Isle of Sodor

For Father's Day, Vicki got us tickets to see Thomas at the Strasburg Railroad.

I'm not sure how I can best describe the scene. Remember in Highlander, when the "gathering" takes place and the immortals converge on New York City...

It was sort of like that, except without swords (and music from Queen) and with hundreds upon hundreds of little boys (and some girls) decked out in conductor's hats and blowing train whistles.

Did I mention it hit 94 degrees yesterday? That lent the whole thing a nice pilgrims-headed-toward-the-Ganges kind of feel (and smell).

Hordes of sweaty kids, their parents, and a caravan of strollers all stumbling forward in the heat to see the big blue train with the fixed smile on his face. The juice box to person ratio must have been seven to one. If you don't have kids, this probably sounds dreadful. Heck, even if you do, it might. But it was actually a lot of fun.

The look on Samson's face as he saw Thomas approaching made the whole thing worth it. His eyes got really wide and a smile spread slowly across his face; you could practically hear the little synapses firing away in his head, sounding the alarm, "Thomas! Thomas! Thomas! Life-sized! Coming closer! Thomas!"

I'm not sure how into the actual train ride he was, but we did get to see some of the surrounding area's farms and livestock. Cows and horses were duly noted.

And at one of the crossings, there were three Amish kids sitting in the grass waving and looking like they'd jumped right from Dorothea Lange's viewfinder.

Since we didn't get to spend the day with my Dad, who was visiting my sister for the afternoon, we called as we were on our way to Thomas-palooza.

I should preface by saying that we were on a cell phone and that my Dad's hearing is not as good as it once was. And since he'll be 80 in October, we should probably give him a break.

Anyway, after wishing him a happy Father's day, I told him our plans for the day and heard him relay to my mother: "It's your son. They're taking the baby for a ride on the hummus train. That sounds great."

At which point I could hear my sister laughing and correcting him. Unfazed, my Dad said, "Oh, Thomas, that makes sense. Hummus is that stuff you put on crackers, right?"

What's remarkable about this is not that my Dad thought we were taking Samson on a train made of chick-peas and tahini but that he was so unconditionally supportive of our plans for the day.

Somewhere in his mind he was probably thinking, "I knew they fed that child tofu, but a Middle Eastern dip/train ride? Well, whatareyougonnado?"

Thanks, Dad. I can always count on you. I hope Samson can say the same when he's my age.