Miss M got sent home from school yesterday because her eyes were provoking a lot of discussion. A trip to the doctor for antibiotic drops, a note to let her back into class tomorrow, a speech EI referral for AM, and two flu shots later, we were left with a “free”/”sick” day today.

Rather spontaneously, I decided to take the kids to the holiday train show at the New York Botanical Garden. We’re members, we have about six years’ worth of free parking passes, and even though it was too late to reserve timed tickets for today on-line, I doubted that the show would be fully booked, as I am sure it is on weekends and during Christmas week.

Predictably, both kids went nuts over the trains. (I personally would have liked to spend some more time looking at the replicas of famous NYC buildings, constructed out of plant matter. But trust me, neither of my companions had the slightest interest in my opinion.) AM, riding on my back in a BabyHawk, did a huge amount of excited yelping. Given the acoustics in the Haupt Conservatory, everyone in there must have, uh, perceived his joy. Miss M liked the trolleys in particular and kept demanding to know why not all of the trains were running.

But one part freaked her out. A single piece zipping around its own track, it looked like a small oval cookie tin and was painted to look like a ladybug. I kept expecting her to notice the ladybug features, but it moved past us, several times, rather quickly; I finally pointed it out, and she twisted away, burying her head in her shoulder. ”Ema,” she said darkly, “I don’t like the bug train.” Ok, fine; there was plenty else to see, and we did.

Instead of braving the wind to eat snack al fresco, I decided to pack it in and come home for AM’s nap. All the way back to the entrance, Miss M was reiterating her revilement of the ladybug train. As we passed through the gate, a NYBG employee said goodbye, adding “Leaving so soon?”

I explained that we were members and could come any time; we had just come for the train show. “Oh,” she replied. “Did you like it?” she asked Miss M.

“Yes!” exclaimed my pigtailed princess. “I did!” And then the kicker. “I liked the bug train!”

So all the way home, in between demands for more pretzels, I heard about how much she liked the bug train. She told our doorman about it. She left a voicemail for Taxman singing the praises of the bug train.

And what about me?

I am pretty damn confused.