"The bridge is out!"

It's Sunday morning, Little Z and I are upstairs getting dressed, and I hear this frantic,

"The bridge is out!" from TLBP, just before he runs out the door.

Holy crap! The bridge is out? How does he know this? Where is he going? Is he going to fix it?

I look out the window as I hustle Z down the stairs- the bridge is fine.

Damn. I'm so unobservant. There must be another bridge. I can't believe this crap. Images of TLBP and neighbors (there are two houses up the drive) fixing a bridge, frantically, before our house floats away come into my mind.

Z is taking her time, as usual.

"We have to put our shoes and coats on!" I entreat her, "The bridge is out! We have to go help Daddy!" She smiles lazily,

"Sweater? Boots? Boots! Boots!" and tries to put on my boots.

We finally make it out the door, with proper boots and coats on for helping to mend a bridge that's out. TLBP is outside, raking rocks. The sun is shining. He is smiling the smile of happy farm livin'.

"Which bridge is out?" I ask him.

"Bridge? What bridge?"

"You said, 'the bridge is out,' and then you ran out the door!"

"No, no! I said, 'It's gorgeous out!' Isn't it gorgeous out? The weatherman said it would be rainy and cold today, but it's just gorgeous out! So sunny! Not a cloud in the sky."