I HATE storms

Hate them, hate them, hate them. I don't care how old I get, I have come to terms with the fact that I will always be terrified of bad storms. Last year's almost-tornado experience didn't help this; in fact, I think it probably made it worse, because now I kind of know what I'm really up against. And tonight we've had bad storms.

So tonight, Brock is stuck in D.C. because his flight home to Chicago was canceled (see: bad storms above). And we've had tornado warnings and sirens going off and everything, and it's just me and Hannah. And when the most calm person in your house is the 3-year-old, you have a problem.

I have to say I think I did a pretty good job faking calm. We just went and played in the basement for an hour or so, and Hannah had a delightful time. She just kept saying, "Wow, it's pretty stormy outside, huh?" She totally didn't care at all. Why can't I be like that? I was a basket case. I'm quite impressed with her.

Despite my inner panic, I'm actually pretty impressed with me, too. I don't think Hannah had any idea how scared I was when the sirens went off.

I HATE storms. Hate them. I hope they're done for the night. We're down to a "severe thunderstorm watch" now, so hopefully things will calm down some.