I’m a Little Scared

Let me set the scene from a couple days ago:

It was very windy outside, as some lovely, very non-typical mild February weather was blowing out of the way to make room for more seasonable temperatures.

I was sitting at my computer, when the 9yo walked in, holding some clean clothes.

They were, just moments before, nicely folded clothes. But now they were in a crumpled-up wad in his hand.

That much I could see.

Yes, not that you asked, but it was early in the evening. And he was getting ready to take his shower.

Begrudgingly, I might add.

We were leaving soon to take his brother to soccer practice (and please don’t even ask…it is indoors…it is Indiana in February, for crying out loud), and by the time we would get home it would be past everyone’s bedtime.

In an effort to streamline the transition from soccer to bed, I had insisted that the younger, non-soccer-player, take his shower before we go.

And no, I was not making him put on his jammies at that point (even though I really wanted to put mine on!)…he would put on the clothes he was going to wear the next day. That way when we got home, he could remove the next day's clothes (all nice and neat, I am certain) to lay them out...then they would be ready to put back on in just a matter of a few short hours.

But I was fairly certain that he would ask to sleep in them. To which I will reply a simple and clear, “no”…but he would attempt to continue to debate it.

He was standing to my right, just beyond the reach of my peripheral vision.

Can you picture all this? Then I shall continue.

9yo: Mom, I’m scared.

Me: Why?

9yo: Because just now, when I was in my room…

Me: Yes…(nodding and kind of half-listening…I’ll be honest, I was pretty sure that I knew what this was about, and was not concerned in the slightest.)

9yo: And I heard something tap on my window!

Me: Yes, it’s windy…and you heard the rain hitting your window.

9yo: No, I looked outside and there was nothing there. The sticks weren’t blowing around or anything.

Me: Well, it was the rain. I promise.

9yo: Well, I’m just a little scared.

He and the weather have a history together...all of which has amounted to not much actually happening...hence my nonchalant attitude. I have been nominated for Mom-of-the-Year, in case you were wondering.

At this point, I looked over at him…maybe hug him or comfort him. Or simply just pat his head.

I can't exactly recall at this point what my intentions were.

I discovered that he’d been standing there talking to me wearing nothing but a t-shirt. 

That’s right…the rest of him was au natural (that's French for nude).

Me: Well, Dude...you’re not the only one who’s scared. I'm a little frightened now myself. And please tell me that the blinds were closed when you were undressing.

9yo: Oh they were!

Somehow I actually doubt that.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask at what stage of undressedness (yes, I’m certain that is a word…and if it’s not, you know by your context clues what I mean) he was in the midst of when he pulled back the blind to check on the weather.

The neighbors (who do not have children) might be a little scared now too.