Last night we did not have a thunderstorm, but Phoebe remained terrified of the non-impending storm all night long and throughout the morning hours.
See, the kids stayed out late playing night games (kick-the-can and things of that nature) and they noticed that they sky was simply crackling with energy. The clouds were resting about 60 miles away (the storm was over Athens) but we could see the lightning in the clouds on the horizon. The kids were very excited about this—it was quite neat to watch, but felt a little strange because we couldn't really hear any thunder (whether it was too far away or whether the cicadas and katydid screeching simply covered it up, we will never know).
Phoebe was completely freaked out.
She wouldn't go to bed. And then when she did finally go to bed she woke up a few hours later in a state of panic over our inevitable doom.
We tried to explain that the storm had dissipated before it made it to us. We didn't see a drop of rain or hear a single crack of thunder. We looked out at the stars—see how clear the sky is? We looked at the weather forecast—no storm.
We tried lullabies. We tried nightlights. We tried prayers. We tried melatonin. We tried stories.
We tried simply sleeping snuggled up beside her.
She remained on high alert.
Andrew said she finally fell asleep around 4:00...and then we were up at 7:00 to get ready for swimming. She crawled in bed with me a cowered under the covers.
"Was that thunder?"
"That was a plane."
"Was that thunder?"
"That was a train. Phoebe—look! It's a bright, sunny day! The birds are chirping! The sun is shining!"
"I just know we're going to be hit by that storm."
"We're absolutely not going to be hit by that storm."
It was a long morning. And she's been a bit of a...grump...as well, if I'm being honest (probably on account of only sleeping from 4–7 am).
Anyway, here's a picture she took with my phone:
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