January 9

We had a bona fide torrential downpour overnight. The rain pounded against the roof so hard that it actually jolted me awake at 1 AM. I got up and trolled from room to room, checking on the kids; Isaac was up (and standing in the middle of the bathroom looking completely confused), but Abby and Brady --like Adam-- slept through the ruckus. Honestly, the force of the rain scared me a little, and it made me feel better to see them sleeping peacefully in their little beds.

By morning, the skies had cleared considerably and the sun even emerged for a few sweet seconds. By this afternoon, the Little Boys were fully immersed in being their silly selves as Abby --who didn't have school today-- visited with some of her old elementary teachers.

I'm not sure how they discovered that Isaac can actually carry Brady, but they did, and they amused themselves quite handily with the new activity: Brady would call out "Isaac, cradle me!" and Isaac would scoop him up in his arms bride-over-the-threshold style and tote him around as both boys giggled. As often happens, I chuckled quietly as I watched them goof off.

But there was, in hindsight, an important lesson in it for me. Life --as we think it should be-- is interrupted by storms, and sometimes those storms are real doozies that throw us off-balance or inspire deep-seated fear in our hearts. But storms are temporary, and as my Little Boys unwittingly demonstrated, we can always try to dance in the rain.