Sunny Afternoon

I have to confess. My children do not have appropriate rain gear.
You know how when it rains you see those adorable children outside in their Wellingtons and yellow rain slickers with the hoods up? They look like oversized rubber duckies inexplicably come to life (there must have been some magic in that old silk umbrella they found...). Those are not my children.
My kids are the ones digging in the mud puddle in their underwear. Or maybe in their bathing suits as they'll use any excuse to put them on.
The other day I suggested that C go out and dig a canal in order to join the puddle on the left side of the driveway with the puddle on the right.
Today H was out there trying to ride his surf board in the resulting giant puddle.
It's not that I'm sick of the weather. Rather, I'm sick of people talking about the weather.
The weather, unlike the piles of filthy laundry, the food-encrusted dishes, the sticky dining room floor, and the eternally burning question of what's for dinner, is out of my hands. I am not responsible for it and I cannot control it and in those regards I rather like it.
The weather is just. It rains on everyone. And yet people whine about the weather and it gets vilified.
The rain spoiled my picnic.
The rain is causing my vegetable garden to rot.
The rain is scaring away the tourists.
The rain is destroying the economy.
The rain sank my battleship.
The rain killed Michael Jackson.

song: Sunny Afternoon • artist: The Kinks