My parents like purchase the loudest, most aggravating toys ever created for the boys. My mother thinks nothing of taking the boys to Target or Toys-R-Us and allowing them to pick out toys, something I never do because I am more like my step-father. He will wake at the crack of dawn and visit all the major flea markets and yard sales in town, scouring for treasures. Sometimes he'll bring Liam with him. This is how Liam got his ridiculous screen-printed t-shirt of two wolves howling with a native American's face silhouetted in the moonlight sky. It's also how we got Thomas the Possessed Train, pictured above.
I am not a 'fraidey cat but if I'm awake by myself at night and I hear a creepy CHOO CHOO whistle coming from somewhere in the house, my business will be slightly freaked-out. The other night, while Chris worked late and the boys were fast asleep, I worked on a few deadlines while C-Span droned on in the background. Suddenly Thomas started up with his CHOO CHOOO, CHOO CHOOing and by the time I located him in the bottom of the kids' toy basket, he'd stopped. I placed him on top of the basket, sat back down, and five minutes later CHOO CHOO all over again. As soon as I got up and took a step, it stopped. This went on for an hour. It stopped the second I stood up. I'd fake-flinch and it would stop. Touche, Thomas.
I finally removed the batteries and laid it on the floor. I sat back down again, and when I looked over at it later its shuttered eyes flipped open. It may or may not have also rolled its eyes and given me the finger, which I realize is anatomically impossible for a train but this train is possessed. I'd send it back to my parents' house with the boys when next they visit, but it would only retaliate by rolling all the way back up to the city to kill us all in our sleep.
Unrelated: In just a bit Chris and I will be dining as guests at a fundraiser with President Bush that we couldn't afford to get into were we not guests. I will work hard to not embarrass myself in any fashion.