Thoughts on a storm

Let's go out on the deck and blow bubbles!
Yay bubbles!
Ooh, those are some dark clouds way over there behind the trees.
And that's a lot of wind all of a sudden.
And maybe we should just go inside now before the storm starts.
Yep, here it comes.
Wow.
Woah.
Eep. I didn't know those trees were that bendy.
Let's just go down to the basement in case there's a tornado* or something.
Oop, there go the lights. Let's not stay in the basement. I don't think the baby finds it fun down here in the dark.
Maybe we'll just sit here on the stairs away from the windows.
I think it's going over.
Yup, that's it.
What a lot of branches there are on the lawn all of a sudden.

...

Let's go out to dinner.

...

Hmm. Still no electricity. What a fun adventure.
Isn't it funny how it's cooler and brighter outside the house than inside?
Even though the temperature has dropped from 100 F since the storm. To, ooh, 95 or so.

...

Well, we can't see any more so we may as well go to bed.
Monkey, why are you still awake? You don't like the dark? You need me to lie down with you for a while?
You're a million degrees and you insist on keeping your duvet on you and you want to cuddle up to me. I cannot do this. Get your leg off me.
What do you mean, "You just have to live with it"?
You need to pee? Great. Let's go to the bathroom. Use your flashlight.
[Cries from offstage]
Okay, now she's awake so I have to go. Sorry.
Go to sleep, baby. I know you're hot. We're all hot.
[Noise of Monkey's flashlight clattering to the tiled floor of the bathroom and sending batteries scattering. I wonder whether he managed to pee first or not.]
Come on, baby, we have to call in the troops.
[I take miserably hot and tired baby to husband's bedside, where husband is pretending to be asleep.]
You need to help Monkey pee.
[I leave with baby.]
Go to sleep, baby.

...


Maybe it's cooler here on the nice wooden floor. Aaah. Nice wooden floor.
Hard wooden floor. Maybe the bed's not so bad.

...

How come you're asleep? It's too hot to sleep. I can't sleep.
[I toss.]
[I turn.]
[I write blog posts in my head, compose packing lists for upcoming trip, think about shoes, and muse on names** for the third baby we're not having.]
[Baby wakes up.]
Go to sleep, baby.

...

Aaand now it's time to get up. Look, still no electricity. How exciting this is.
Let's go out for breakfast and Internet access.


*We live in Maryland. Tornadoes, while not unheard of, are pretty rare. It's not Kansas out there, Toto.

** There are no more names. We've used them all. No more babies, then.