Okay, I'll come clean. I sleep with a bear. Mr. Bear, to be precise. Yes, I have a woobie. So, last night it stormed a bit. It stopped, I thought it was done and ran out to pick up something from the store. I made the mistake of not checking the weather first. Round two blew in while I was gone. Naturally, my son didn't want to run the errand too. Therefore, he was home alone when it hit. The NOAA radio was going off, and I think that freaked him out. Off to the basement he went, with the dog in tow. What I didn't know is what else he carried down with him. I crawled into bed last night and reached under the pillow for Mr. Bear...Not there...I looked under the bed...Not there. Where-could-he-be?! I was starting to freak out a bit at this point. B walked down the hallway and asked Ian, "Where's the bear?" He knew exactly what she meant. He traipsed down to the basement, where he'd taken the bear earlier to save him from any potential tornado. He's a sweet boy....