Last time we had a major afternoon thunderstorm, James was pretty freaked by the "funder." The Expert, in his infinite wisdom, told the three-year old not to worry, that thunder was the sound of the angels flapping their wings.
James' eyes grew huge. He contemplates the Expert Angel Theory ("EAT") for a second. And then, he is freaked out more than before. "I no like the angels! No!!! No funder, Momma!!!" Poor little guy's hands are shaking.
He's clearly thinking of scary giant angels (the kid is smart -he's thinking if something makes that much noise, it's gotta be massive). Scary giant wing-flapping plane-sized angels.
Poor James. "Noooooo!" he continues.
Stella then chimes in, sensing his distress, "Nooooooo ain-ells!! Noooo!"
They are both wailing. Great. Way to go, Expert. (He feels terrible for the record, and no, I do not drag him through the mud for it every time there's a storm... moving on.)
The giant wing-flapping angels appeared that same night. The "funder" came back, and James was begging to get in our bed. The Angels. Drats.
Well, we have some pretty nasty storms brewing and moving towards us tonight. The kids are both in bed, but I am praying (first and foremost) for safety for everyone.... and secondly, that those angels will keep their stinking noisy wings quiet tonight.