Three year old, Greyson, crawled out of bed and rubbed his sleepy little eyes. He discovered I was not in bed with him. Like a streak of lightning, he flashed through the house and bolted into my arms. He hit with the force of a runaway freight train. My teeth rattled like old, house windows in a thunder storm.
I was playing a game on my kindle and my husband was watching the news and weather. The weatherman was standing in front of a large screen that was showing videos of the tornadoes that hit Kansas recently. He was pointing out several locations, the storm had been most ferocious. The video showed, the before and after, pictures of people’s homes. Some of them were missing completely because of the storm’s fury and there were some that had a little debris scattered around.
Greyson began to chatter. That’s normal for him, so he really did not have my full attention. Suddenly, he said the words that commanded me to hear him.
He said, “That’s the berry berry baddest guy ever and I’m tellin Bwonson!”
I looked out the window, we did not have company. Who was he talking about? I questioned him more thoroughly. I wanted to know who the bad guy was.
He pointed to the weatherman.
I asked, “Why do you think he’s a bad guy?”
He replied fervently, “He teared up those houses!”
About the time I understood, he hissed his another statement, almost like a snake, “He’ssssssss berry sssssneaky!”