With tornado warnings being declared off and on for days, I decided we needed to practice our emergency procedures with the grandchildren. James and Lane were excited at the prospect.
The problem: we live upstairs in an airport with no storm cellar, and full length, wrap around windows. For anyone else, I highly recommend you vacate the premises if such an event were to occur.
Our drills began with Papa Steve yelling, “It’s a tornado, Go!”
The boys wrapped sheets around their narrow frames (as instructed by grandma) and rushed from the apartment. Papa Steve instantly halted the proceedings. “You cannot have the boys run downstairs with sheets, they’ll trip over them.”
“I was thinking of the glass,” I admitted. “I don’t want the boys to get cut should the windows burst.”
“Do you think a sheet is going to stop glass?” Steve reasoned. “I recommend they just run.”
So the boys sat down on their beds, preparing for another mad dash without the sheets. However, being the nurturer, I came up with another brilliant idea and decided the boys needed helmets.
Papa Steve made a face. “What are you doing now?”
“Saving their minds,” I replied.
Papa Steve shook his head. “No, they will not have time.”
Long drill short: The boys ran downstairs, very fast, to the interior restroom as instructed. Where grandma had placed a mattress for their bottoms, a blanket for their bodies, and helmets to protect their noggins should a tornado occur. This could be the number one reason why all little boys need men in their lives.