The tracks are just a little over a mile from my house.
Every morning around 4am a train goes by.
This train, for some reason, believes that it can only go through this part of town if it lays on the whistle/horn/what-ever-you-call-it (I’m not a train person) the entire time.
At 4am every morning the baby hears this train whistle/horn/what-ever-you-call-it, sits up in his bed and loudly announces “TRAIN! TRAIN!”.
Somedays we can get the baby back to sleep.
Somedays we can’t.
I would like to tell everyone what kind of things go through my mind at 4am every morning.
But I won’t.
Because I don’t want to land on some sort of federal watch list.