Growing up in a valley outside of Nashville, it wasn't unusual for my mother to wake us up and bring us downstairs during a storm. To this day, I love thinking about the many times we slept on the floor of my parents' bedroom, feeling safer than a joey in his mama's pouch.
Speaking of mamas, it hit me tonight that I am now that mama offering comfort to my kids during a scary thunderstorm. As I ripped Lazzy out of his crib and ran to the basement, I realized how difficult it must have been for my mother to drag five kids out of bed only to convince us to go back to sleep while cuddled on the floor.
Dan and I whipped up a nice cozy make-shift bed for Lazzy in the boys' wagon. He stayed there for a while, but was too excited to really get comfortable. Who can blame him?
Elijah was running wild with excitement. He loved the fact that he got to stay up longer and play in the basement.
I couldn't really blame him though. It's the first time we've done the "run to the basement in the middle of a storm right before bedtime" thing. It was fun while it lasted. I'm glad nothing really bad happened but also annoyed that Elijah is still awake in his bed. At least Lazzy went right back to sleep. That baby is amazing.