i grew up in southern california and moved to the midwest for grad school.
when we visit my family, bern gets a kick out of the "storm watch" sections on the news.
aka, look out california, it's about the drizzle. a lot.
they come with the requisite reminder that the first rain after a period of time will pull up the oils on the street.
yes, in california, we have to be reminded that water on a hard surface can be, potentially, slippery when traveling in a large hunk of metal on wheels.
these reports often include newscasters wearing stereotypical trenchcoats and standing under an umbrella in what i would now consider weather not worthy of bothering with such devices.
it's cute, really.
little did bern and i know we would grow to have our own personal storm watch system.
his name is anthony.
and he operates on just about the same scale as the california system when weighing the disaster potential of any given storm.
as in, if there is any notable level of humidity in the air, or, perhaps, a cloud in the sky, one of us gets asked if it's "gonna be a big storm."
we then immediately get asked to go to the basement.
and put on the news.
recently, there was a series of severe thunderstorms that rolled through central ohio.
they came with the usual little storm watch reports that pop in over regular TV programming.
these immediately send the boys into a tizzy.
if there is any form of weather map on the screen, the storm is legitimate in their eyes.
i needed to give the boys a bath.
anth insisted that i was "not making a very healthy decision" for him.
i told him i had at least 15 minutes (knowing i had much more from looking at the map on the screen).
before i finished blinking the kid was standing in the tub waiting for me to fill it.
during the course of our speedier-than-usual-but-not-really bath, i stopped to itch my eye.
anth, with a look of sheer desperation/pleading, grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye.
with the other hand flailing for emphasis, "mom! you are wasting important time!"
followed by, "i really have to pee! and if this house blows down, i have NO idea where to go!"
a house full of books, pictures, toys, food and clothes. . .
the kid sees a giant port-a-potty.