Sunday, March 4, 2012

Warning: You should not argue with your parents during a bleeping tornado warning.

This past Friday around 2:00 a.m. I woke up to a huge thunderclap followed immediately by a flash of lightning.  Usually I sleep like a baby during thunderstorms so it was very unusual for me to be roused out of la-la land.

Then the phone rings.  It's Dave's friend who tells that Channel 2 news is broadcasting that a tornado is cutting a swath of destruction down toward our house.  Regan is already awake holding a passel of stuffed animals.  Dave runs to get Wesley out of bed.  It is important to note that Wesley sleeps on an elevated bed with a complete desk underneath.  The following is the of gist of the conversation:

Dave:  Wes, get up.  We're going to the basement.
Wes:  Leave me alone.  I'm sleepy. 
Dave (a bit more impatiently): There's a bleeping tornado coming our way.
Wes (who is a bit more awake):  Really? Where?  (At this point, Wesley hangs down from the bed and presses his face against his window)
Dave (who by now is nearing anger implosion):  Get your bleeping bleep out of bed now. 

Dave pulled him out and threw him down the stairs with me.  Regan is crying and not because of the impending tornado but the fact her stuffed animal collection is uncovered.  Wesley is grunting in anger and plops down across the basement near the only window.  He promptly tries to fall back asleep as I pull his skinny bleeping bleep off the window seat and to the secure part of the basement. 

While I'm throwing pillows over the top of Wesley, he grumbles that it isn't fair he can't sleep because of this and he wants to complain to someone (me).  I am tempted for a moment to pile more pillows on top of him but I abandon this to catch Regan as she makes a break for the stairs for her stuffed animals. 

In the meantime, Zack moseys into the room and plops down on my pillow, yawns and falls asleep.

Dave, the luckiest bleeping guy, is still upstairs listening to the weather.  Why does he get to face the tornado and I have to deal with the kids?  This is so not fair.

Three minutes later and no tornado, the all clear is sounded and Regan runs upstairs.  Wesley throws off his pillows, moaning about how I ruined his life by throwing pillows on him for no reason.

I envy Dorothy.  I would have liked to visit Oz.


Kitten With a Whiplash said...

Thank Goodness you are all OK!

Christy said...

Thanks, Kitten! We're fine. I'm still a bit frazzled.