It seems Middle thinks storms are for walking in
As the thunder rolled and lightning flashed I switched off the lights to enjoy the show. Only when it got Motörhead live loud did I realise it was getting extreme and ran through a roll call of my loved ones.
Cat, the Notorious BIG, hiding under chair, cheered up by a fistful of Dreamie treats, check. Youngest Child, staring at a screen (“Sigh, no, I don’t want to join you at the window watching the weather thank you mother”) check.
Eldest Child? He was born during a thunderstorm which was convenient as we were on day three by then and the crashing and banging drowned out the storm raging on the delivery trolley while giving Other Parent and the midwife something to watch and discuss other than their holidays and favourite sandwich fillings. Since then the child born in a storm has had a healthy respect for inclement weather.
“I’m in the house. Why would I go out in that?” is his response to my text. Check.
Which only leaves Middle. “I’ll just text him to stay in,” I say.
“Leave him alone,” says Youngest. “He’s not stupid.”
“Hmmm. I was just going to tell him not to go outside up onto his roof.”
“Sigh. Overmothering again.”
“OK.” I go back to watching the storm. My mobile pings. A text from Middle. “Is Biggie Smalls safe?”
“Yep. Are you?”
“Yes, just watching storm.”
I really must learn to trust them more. Next day I’m round for a cup of tea with Eldest and Middle on Middle’s roof.
“The storm last night would have been awesome to watch from up here,” I say. “Yeah, it was. Amazing.”
“What? I texted you to check you weren’t on your roof and you said you were safe watching it.”
“I was. I’d already BEEN up on the roof and by then I was at the airport waiting for Other Parent’s plane, so I watched the storm for a bit from the car...” “Good.”
“... then I went for a walk across the fields because they were so deserted and…”
“You could have been struck by lightning!”
“Yes, that’s why the police…
“what? What?” ■