When we were telling Jeffrey about Beth being scared of the thunder this afternoon, she chimed right in. I had just finished telling Jeffrey how the thunder had scared her and she jumped up on the couch and said, "Thunder. Scared. Ch-choom!" imitating the noise thunder makes to her.
We all dissolved into laughter.
Later, when we were reading scriptures before bed, we were going in a circle, each reading a verse, but skipping Beth, who was climbing on Jeffrey's back. After skipping her once, she angrily climbed down, and demanded, "My turn!" When we went around again, and it was her turn, she came and sat on my lap, and gravely repeated every single word. I was impressed! Jeffrey and the older kids couldn't stop giggling because on her third word she burped it. It was awfully funny, but the glowering look she was giving everyone (which may have made them giggle all the more) helped me be serious while helping her, full well knowing I could laugh to my heart's content as soon as she was asleep. And I am. I am still laughing at her diminutive glare that could wither a person into submission, or so she thinks. Oh my heart, that girl!
Living the lightening that was blinding, and the rolling thunder bouncing off the mountains and rolling around the valley was a form of cleansing meditation for me.
Oh glory, this day!
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ~Langston Hughes