Bright lights calm kiddies.

We returned home from Cleveland on Sunday to a blackout. Our Burning Ham neighborhood was without power for hours and no end was in site. I panicked. Edy's ice cream was on sale the week before and I had six pints stowed in my garage fridge.

Shit. Shit. And double-fudge tracks shit.

I debated eating it all, but didn't want to do penance at the gym every day for sixteen weeks. I debated making milkshakes, but fortheloveofgod, I had no power! Remember? I walked around the house brainstorming, forgetting we didn't have electricity, turning light switches on and off until I didn't know which switch was which. I Googled "dry ice" and my zipcode on the Crackberry. Mike simultaneously Googled "how to ice your insane wife" on his.

I gave up and got candles. Kaila thought it was her birthday again. I decided not to argue, but merely explain that we couldn't open the freezer to get her ice cream because we needed to conserve the cold air. She didn't buy it, but no matter. I had bigger problems. I had suddenly spied Madan. He was rolling around on the carpet, in his boxer briefs, moaning -- and almost in tears.

First off, he was nearly naked because he undresses upon entering the house. No idea why. Secondly, he was distraught because the power outage apparently caused his brain to seize up.

"Madan, what's wrong?"

"The power! It's out! I never want to come here again."

"Dude, you're being dramatic. We have candles. We have flashlights. We ordered pizza. Plus, it's almost bedtime. You don't need electricity."

"Nooooooooooo." He said shaking his head at my stupidity, "My ALARM CLOCK ISN'T GOING TO WORK!"

"Seriously, Madan? We just came off a long weekend. Do you really think I'm going to let you sleep in and miss school after we've spent three entire days together?"

"I guess not."

"Right. So, don't worry. I will wake you up in the morning and make sure you have enough time to play your DS, eat breakfast and get to school. In fact, I'll even stay up all night to make sure you don't sleep a minute past when you're supposed to wake up." I exaggerated for effect, but contemplated actually doing that. I love my kids and value "togetherness," but too much of anything is a bad thing.

He seemed satisfied until his lack of trust set in. He started weeping again. "Oh, this is terrible. This is awful. Why can't they just turn the power ON?" He was now frantically walking in circles, gesticulating like a crazy person.

"Madan! You're going to get an ulcer before you turn seven! You'll never be able to enjoy tomato-based products or booze. Think about it!" I reasoned, but it was futile. His wheels were spinning out of control. He stared at the light switch. I knew he was seconds away from furiously turning them on and off, on and off, on and off. Didn't my little Rainman learn anything from my mistakes?

Suddenly, a lightbulb went on. But, it was in Mike's head.

"MOM! Dad said I should use my OTHER clock!" It was a battery-operated number from Pottery Barn. "And, since I learned how to tell time in Kindergarten, I'll know when it's 6am and time to get up!"

Hallelujah started playing again. (Yes. It was the Leonard Cohen version this time, too.) Maybe Madan will be able to enjoy ketchup and beer when he's older after all!