I came home early today with plans to pick up James and take him to the park or go for a run on the greenway. But it rained. And instead James stood at the door and stared through the glass that separated him from the freedom of the outdoors.
We had become prisoners in our own home.
So we sang (meaning I sang because James was too troubled to partake in such childish non-sense) Rain Rain Go Away and It’s Raining It’s Pouring and If All the Raindrops were Lemon Drops and Gumdrops and the only two lines I know from Purple Rain mixed in with some random song I made up because I was tired and couldn’t think of any more songs about rain.
But my “Rainy Day Concert” didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. James was too spellbound by the falling rain and despite my very best attempts to convince James that playing in the rain was a bad idea in the most logical adult way possible, I was unsuccessful. So, instead of defending my rationale all afternoon to an almost 2-year-old with a stubborn streak as irritatingly long as my own, I called a truce and compromised with a snack on the front porch.
The rain let up around 7 just long enough for all of us to explore the mud-puddles, slick grass and the sensation of rain on our faces. James squealed and splashed and chased Max and we all soon became so lost in the excitement of the rain that our original plan for a sunny afternoon seemed pretty darn boring.
I’m kind of looking forward to thunderstorms rolling in tomorrow afternoon…