The Magician Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Dark thick clouds had taken over the sky signaling a storm was brewing.  The forecast was calling for heavy rains and possible tornadoes, but the boys were adamant that we continue on to the library as we had planned.

"But Mommy, you promised we could go to the library today." Says the oldest.

"Yeah, Mommy, you promised me too." Chimes the youngest.

"Yes, boys, but look at the dark, gloomy sky and now it has started to rain. Can't we go later, if it clears off? Or maybe even tomorrow? They are forecasting a bunch of serious storms across TN today, so let's be safe and stay home." That was me trying to reason with them ... I lost them at Yes, boys, but.

Killian wishes the magician still lived at the library.

We drive off into the sprinkling rain. By the time we reach the library the radio is listing off a series of counties under a tornado watch. Ours included. Sometimes, I am just that desperate to get out of the house with them. Tornado warnings won't even keep me home!

I didn't grow up with tornado warnings or watches ... I grew up with hurricane warnings. Most of those down graded to a tropical storm when they hit the icy North Atlantic. Except for Hurricane Juan  of course. That was different.

We rushed (really, more like I rushed, they just dawdled) into the library and we deposited our last week's library books on the return counter, and moved into the children's section. I instructed them to pick out two books each, explaining that we needed to hurry because of the tornado watch. I try not to use scare tactics unnecessarily, but sometimes it's the only way I can convey to them the sense of urgency at hand. And we really were under a tornado watch, so I needed to get us back home ASAP.

As we walked up to the check-out counter Killian, the youngest, starts talking about the magician we saw perform at the library. That was last summer, but he still remembers. He passes his two books to the librarian and tells her, "The magician doesn't live here anymore. He lives at another library now." Both the librarian and I had a good chuckle.

As we were walking out the door  back into the pounding rain, Killian goes on to tell me, "Mommy, I sure wish the magician still lived at this library." Rather than ruin the moment with a long-winded explanation about how the magician doesn't really live at the library but just performs there occasionally,  I just smiled and said "So do I, sweetie, so do I."