Today we took the girls to The Magic House. The Magic House is a Children’s Museum located in downtown St. Louis. Let me tell you, this place is so drop dead awesome, it had me cursing my childhood from the moment I stepped in the door. We didn’t have anything close to this when I was a kid. I’ll tell you, these young punks today got it made.

Anyway, Jordan, Zoe, Tiffany and I ran through this place for about two hours and we probably only saw about 1/3 of what it had to offer. We even got the chance to touch one of those crazy electromagnetic balls that make your hair look like Yahoo Serious after inventing bubbles for beer. Jordan didn’t much care for it but I thought it was pretty cool.

Now, for everything this place had to offer; hall of mirrors, fishing hole, pretend store, bank, electric company, waterfalls, super slides, tunnels, crazy stairs, etc, etc, etc…, my daughter Zoe was attracted most to the most simplistic feature of all…the sandbox. She was mesmerized by that thing. We couldn’t pull her away from it. She’d scoop up the sand and put it in this funnel that made these wheels turn when the sand went through it. Over and over again she’d do this. I guess we are getting her a sand box when we finally move into our house.

Speaking of Zoe. Yesterday we went to see the St. Louis Arch. You can actually go to the top of the Arch by way of tram (from what I could tell, the tram consisted of about 8 cars with the seating capacity of 5 in each car). These cars were tiny tiny tiny. When we entered the car (after paying 8 bucks per person for the privilege I might add), Zoe decided to utilize that exact time to, well, for lack of a better way of putting this, take a dump. Oh joy! Rapture! A five minute ride to the top in a 4 foot by 4 foot tram car with no ventilation on a very hot St. Louis summer day. Right to the top, and right down to the bottom again. So much for breath taking views.

Parenthood. I hope this blog survives a few years. I hope beyond hope to be able to point Zoe to this very entry when she is old enough to appreciate it. Boy, am I an evil bastard.