The calendar said spring, but someone forgot to tell Mother Nature. The day started out with snow and sleet and now, late at night, lightning was flashing across a threatening sky.
I was tucking in my daughter when the thunder started.
"Mom!" I heard my son call from his room. "The angels are bowling!" I laughed and kissed my daughter goodnight. "Mom!" said the voice, this time much closer. "I wish they'd stop."
My son was out of bed now, right beside me, acting brave but looking more than a little nervous. Even my daughter, far too sophisticated for anything as mundane as an impromptu slumber party, decided tonight was a fine night for some company.
"Let's watch SpongeBob!" she suggested. And we did. I inched between my daughter and son - which is like being sandwiched between a pillow and a bag of tacks - and they laid their heads on my shoulders while we watched the adventures of the country's most famous undersea sponge.
Outside, the lightning flashed and the thunder crashed and Mother Nature did her worst, but in the dark, crowded bedroom, I didn't mind a bit.