I recently became aware that people other than my family read this blog. Apparently I have fans. And my fans are disappointed because I haven't written anything in over a month. I can use the excuse that I've been busy, but who isn't? I can try to make people believe that I ran out of writing material. But with five kids and one of them being Ian, that's about as likely as no road construction in Sandy. It boils down to this. I don't have an excuse. Just wasn't in the mood, I guess. But summer is now here, and with it's arrival, I find myself feeling much more relaxed, it's easier to focus, I'm happier, and motivated. I think I can write now.
Sunday night was an amazing display of natures ability to get down with static electricity. If you didn't see the show, you missed out. We had family over because it was Beka's fifteenth birthday. Mindi and Bryon and their kids hung around after the others left. We went outside to enjoy the storm and lied on our backs on the grass to get a premium view of the sparks overhead. To the south, the clouds were dark and threatening. To the north, they were illuminated by the sun. And that's when the conversations started.
Ian: Those dark clouds are Satan's. And those light clouds are from Jesus.
Tanner: Go team Jesus!
Ian: Yeah! Team Jesus!
Ian: Satan makes the lightning into skeletons.
Me: Satan doesn't control the lightning.
Ian: Yes, he does. He makes it skeletons and then tornadoes and it kills people.
Bryon: Satan can't control the lightning. Only God can.
Ian: Satan can too 'cause he is bad and tornadoes are bad. We are having a tornado?
Me: No, Ian. This is just a storm with lots of lightning and thunder.
Ian: Oh! It's raining! That means the angels are sad. Why are they crying?
Me: The angels aren't sad. The clouds are full of water and they sprung a leak. You know when you
have to pee? You feel full of pee and you have to let it out.
Ian: The clouds are peeing! The clouds are pooping! Peeing and pooping!
My little boys' brain was running on Energizer batteries that night. He went from one subject to another, one person to another... He was obsessed with tornadoes and fascinated by the lightning. He stuttered over words and his little face would screw up tight with concentration as he tried to get his mouth to catch up with his mind. He couldn't hold still, shut up, or sit down. And I loved him for it. He was pure Ian and as I looked at him, I marvelled at the power it took to create such a perfect life, such a beautiful boy... and the storm, awesome in might, paled by comparison.
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