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This is a topical subject for me today, because where I am it is raining. I’m sure rain is fun and refreshing, if you’re tall and you don’t wear glasses. Can you guess how I look?
This is totally my rain face.
Big Girl does full days at school, but Little Girl is only there in the mornings. This means that I have to do the school run three times a day. And it is November, so of course it is raining. I suspect that the rain stops the second I arrive, dripping and chilly, at my front door, but don’t quote me on that.
I wear jeans all the time, because I am lazy and crappy at colour matching. And due to the fact that I am ridiculous feet, tiny inches tall, my jeans are far too long. Sure, you can get trousers to fit small legs. But I do not own them. This is not a problem on a dry day. Yeah, they drag on the floor and get a little tatty, but it’s nothing compared to when it rains.
Jeans apparently are made of cotton, but I think they are actually made of a genetically modified species of sponge. That’s how they work on my legs, anyway. As I walk I can feel the freezing rainwater travelling up my leg. Nice! This has a bonus, disconcerting effect. My jeans get heavy. I have decide upon keeping hold of LG’s hand, or letting go to haul my trousers back up from my hips. The jeans always win out, ain’t nobody want to see that!
This is my schedule on a rainy day:
1. Take Big Girl and Little Girl to school.
2. Come back, change into pyjama trousers and put jeans in the dryer.
3. Put jeans back on, go and pick up LG.
4. Put jeans in the dryer.
5. Go and pick up BG.
6. Come home, get changed, put jeans in the wash.
It’s crappy! And it doesn’t work at all on the days when I can’t go straight home. But I am resigned to it, thanks to my short stature status.
And don’t even get me started on the glasses situation. Once the rain starts hitting them I am half-blind and hoping that the children that I am chivvying along are actually mine. And when I go inside, they get covered in steam and I have to stand there giving off vibes of complete doziness until they clear.
So you can see, rain is not my thang.
On the other hand, the children love it! In sharp contrast to my discomfort, they beg to go out if they see it is raining. And they won’t wear hoods, much to the disapproval of passers-by.
BG calls the rain a ‘free shower’ and now LG has caught on. They dance down the street, hair dripping and faces glistening with raindrops. And of course, the broadest smiles in the world on their faces.
They leap into puddles and scream as the cold water hits their legs, then laugh uproariously. They stand under gutters and squeal when the stream of water hits their heads. And I mustn’t forget the obligatory ‘stick your tongue out, put your head back and try to catch a raindrop.’
I wish I could have their perspective. I want to enjoy the rain, and allow it to wash the cobwebs away. But my eyes don’t work and my jeans don’t fit. So I’m going to stick with my usual approach, and grump about it instead. Don’t indulge me too much though, I’ve never had an audience before!
Do your children like rain? Are you one of the lucky adults who loves it? Well then, pull up a chair and tell me all about it!