We’ve had rather inclement weather here in Florida these last few days. And as per usual, our weather forecasters have been on hyper alert status, interrupting programming every few moments to warn us of impending a) rain, b) hail, c)tornadoes, d) the apocalypse, e) all of the above.
If it were hurricane season, no doubt a few of those would have been tossed in for sport.
Since we were all trapped together indoors, we were watching TiVo’d episodes of Little House on the Prairie. And you can bank on the fact that in nearly every episode, there is at least one tornado, fire, plague, or other catastrophe. In other words Little House on the Prairie is an awesome viewing choice if your house is filled with high strung children.
I was keeping a wary eye on the news on my miniature kitchen tv, while the Emergency Broadcasting Station kept butting into the childrens programming to alert us that rain was falling.
At one point we were only under a Tornado WATCH, instead of a WARNING (the difference being that a WARNING means that a tornado MIGHT be a good 50 miles away or so). But behind us, the industrial sized picture window shook with a force that made me get up and look outside. A sudden wind had picked up and the leaves from Lana the Maple Tree were swirling about in a circular motion, and the sky seemed very foreboding to my untrained eye.
With the calmest voice I could muster, I quietly said to my children, “Okay guys, lets go to the hall just to be…” I could not hear the rest of my own sentence through all of the shrieking of my panicked children. There was much screaming and crying, emanating mostly from the 6 year old boy.
Fiddledaddy appeared in the door to his office, “What is going on?” I tried to explain that I thought it best that we just go to the hall. But the children cut me off with accusations of MOMMY SAID THAT THERE IS A TORNADO AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!
And for the record, that is NOT what I said.
If looks could kill, I certainly would have been a smoldering pile of ashes on the cheap carpeting. Fiddledaddy has never been quite the alarmist that I am. In fact, in emergency weather situations, I think he’s a tad too lackadaisical. Which is why I suppose we balance each other out well.
Eying his young pitiful son having a near hysterical break down, he looked at me again, “this is your fault you know.”
Yes. Yes. I know. And so I spent the next hour or so talking Jensen down from the ceiling fan.
This is the same child who nightly asks his father at bedtime, “Dad, is there going to be a thunderstorm?” No. “Tornado?” No. “Hurricane?” No. “Earthquake?” Not likely.
I don’t know where he gets all the high strungyness. It must be from the news.
It certainly can’t be from his mother.
Who may or may not sleep in the bathtub during pending weather. Just sayin’.
Have a fabulous AND SAFE weekend, everyone!