K and I woke at three in the morning to the sound of the most torrential rainfall we’ve ever heard here. It was as if an enormous tap had been situated above our house and turned on fully. Assuming it was the first rains of Hurricane Michael. “I guess this will be what we go through for the next several hours,” I thought.
I began imagining what that might mean. “Our sump pump will get its first real test,” I thought.
At six, I woke. The Boy had woken and shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen. K guided him to our bed. “Go back to see, E,” she instructed, “you don’t have school today.”
The wind, the rain — the school board (or whoever makes the decision) decided it was too much of a risk. K told us when she got back from work that it was indeed a wise choice: “There were just sheets of rain, with no visibility.”
As for the rain of three in the morning — it never really re-materialized. It rained, quite heavily at times, but only until about eleven. Once it calmed a bit, the Boy and I headed out for inspection. And a bit of play.
In the afternoon, muffins.
As part of a literacy project from school, the Boy had to read and follow a recipe with a little help from me.
