“Aggh!” screamed Miss9 as the storm announced itself overhead.
She’s a bit anxious when there’s a natural light display. That we were all standing outside under the back awning was bound to make things worse than if we were, say, tucked up on the lounge, but to be honest I think she mainly thinks she should be nervous in a thunder storm, rather than she actually is, if that makes sense. There was a level of theatrics to her carry-on which isn’t there the times I think she’s genuinely anxious to her core about something, if you know what I mean.
So perhaps I was a little flippant about the whole thing. I mean, all the screaming was interfering with my enjoying wonderful turn in the weather.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s just a storm.”
A storm with all the fun stuff – rain, lightning, thunder and hail. Something for everyone.
I love storms. Not the nasty ones where trees become missiles, obviously, but if the worst of it is overflowing gutters and deafening claps of thunder, then count me in.
Most of the kids were totally onboard with that as well, especially as there were small balls of ice making a racket on the tin roof and bouncing all over the yard. Kids love hail as only people who don’t have a car can.
The sky lit up again and a second later sound engulfed us like someone tipped a bucket of noise on our heads.
“Just a storm?” Miss9 frowned at me, while behind her Miss5 and Miss7 squealed with delight. Her tone said clearly I was missing something important here. “We’re going to die!”
“No we’re not,” Tracey assured her. “We’ve been in lots of storms like this. They’re just good fun.”
“The only thing you need to remember with lightning is,” I told her, resorting to the thing which cured me of my fear of lightning and thunder when I was a kid, “if you hear it, it’s missed.”
And while I know Miss9 is switched on enough to understand that, anxiety takes a lot more than a single line of daddy wisdom to tame. But unfortunately for her, that’s sometimes all this lame dad’s got.
“But,” she went on, “what if it hits me and I do die!?”
“Then I will miss you,” I said to Miss9, in much the same way a helpful person wouldn’t.
And we were back to, “Aggh!”
“Good work,” said Tracey.
She definitely seemed to be of the impression this was somehow my fault. As if I can control the weather!
“I thought she’d laugh,” I said.
At which point Master11 stepped in to help his old man.
“He was being sarcastic,” he explained to Miss9 and put his arm around her. Champion.
“Are you sure?” Miss9 asked.
He nodded and gave her a warm brotherly squeaze, and Miss9 actually seemed to settle down for a moment.
A very brief moment.
“Yeah,” he went on, “he wouldn’t really miss you.”
I don’t know where he gets it, whereas Tracey has a theory…
Raising a family on little more than laughs