When I look at the forecast, I see only rain. I think eight out of the next ten days call for rain. It wears me out. This is August, for Pete’s sake! Time for blistering heat, days at the beach, wishing we had central air. But not this August. Torrential downpours. Yesterday, Arlington had 2.59 inches of rain. And Sunday was even worse.
Fortunately, Robbie does not share my dismal outlook for the weather. What I hear from him is, “Mama, I want rain. Rain! Rain!” And when he goes outside and finds that his miracle worker of a mother actually arranged for rain? Pure ecstasy.
Of course, it may have something to do with this:
For his birthday, Robbie got a windbreaker from my sister (the one he wore for 14 hours straight) and a rain coat from my brother. In these jackets, he has discovered the joy of playing in the rain. He stomps through puddles, soaking his pants, shoes, socks, and, all too often, his mother. He throws his arms out and spins in circles, arms stretched out and head tilted back in delight.
So much joy at water falling from the sky is catching. I think tomorrow you’ll find me splashing in puddles, not worrying about getting soaked to the bone. But I think the key is a good raincoat. Too bad my birthday isn’t until November…