Last month, our babysitter offered to take the kids to her church's Vacation Bible School. And since I wasn't about to turn down three hours of free daycare provided by the Lord himself, I agreed.
On the second night, there was a huge thunderstorm, which knocked the power out and apparently sent my son into an anxiety-fueled tizzy that we've been paying the price for ever since.
Nothing is ever free. Ever.
My middle two kids have always been a little nervous with thunder and lightning, but the combination of him being without us, the loud boom of the power box popping, and the teachers insisting on singing a loud praise song through the outage did him in.
So he came home fairly traumatized, telling us "the angels are bowling" nonsense and reciting ritualistic prayers begging God to make the rain stop, even after the babysitter attempted to medicate him with Chick-Fil-A ice cream.
He now jumps at any and all loud noises, which wouldn't be such a big deal if we weren't directly under the take-off route of the extremely busy Atlanta Airport.
I'll take "Is that Thunder or a Jet? for $200, Alex!"
But worse is that someone must have mentioned the word "tornado" to him, which has spiraled (heh) into an obsession with rain clouds, tornado sirens, and shelters ("Dear Jesus, Thank you for our basement, Amen!), not to mention earthquakes and tsunamis, and yes, even hurricanes, to which I (and my husband, the pilot and weather expert) spend a large portion of my day reassuring him of the rarity of those occurrences in our world, but especially in Atlanta, Georgia.
Just don't tell him about the earthquake that hit here in 2003. Damn Internet.
I'm just waiting for him to discover floods so he can start constructing an ark out of legoes in our basement. On second thought, that might keep him busy for a couple of years.
Just the other day, we were having our daily "What are you thankful for?" discussion at dinner, which he generally turns into some massively heavy conversation about cumulo-nimbus clouds, but had astonishingly been devoid of all things atmospheric when we got to Margot, who said, without even batting an eyelash:
"I'm fankful we're not talking about the weather!"
We all tried hard not to laugh, but we couldn't help ourselves. I think even Drew cracked a smile.
Amen to that, kid. A-freaking-men.