I Hate Rain (but the kids don't...)

Rain. It's a beautiful thing for a middle eastern country. We need it desperately. Silvia told me that her teachers tell her she needs to pray for rain. Periodically, she'll say something like, "every day I pray for the rain." Today, when she saw that it was raining, she said, "I prayed and prayed, and now it rained!" I wish we all had that easy belief.

Anyway, it rained today. Those of us from the South would have called it a "gully-washer." I got caught in it walking back from my haircut (g-d made it pour to cover up my terrible haircut, if you believe THAT.) It was the kind of driving rain that blows the umbrella inside-out and comes at you horizontally so that there is no relief. By the time I walked home, ten minutes after I left the hairdresser's, the front of my jeans were sopping wet, my raincoat was soaked through and my gloves were dripping.

Two hours later, I had to pick up the kids from pre-school. All told, it is about 20 minutes of walking. But in the rain....

I arrive sopping wet after a five-minute walk to Silvie's preschool. She cannot be deterred from walking in the rain in her rainboots and with her umbrella. There is no parting a 3-year old from her umbrella, I'll tell you that. So I'm pushing an empty stroller with a lousy raincover (the only problem with the Phil and Ted's double, by the way) that seeps rain into the back seat, and Silvie is theoretically walking alongside me...bumping her umbrella into me, actually walking behind me...WAY behind me. And the rain is driving hard. And Silvie cannot be parted from her umbrella. And I am soaked AGAIN. And we are no where near Miriam's gan.

Sigh.

Miriam, once I arrive, will not let go of the Cheerio's box that we brought to her gan this morning so that they can make some sort of art project with it. "MINE!" she shouts over and over. We have no choice but to bring it home. I promise the pre-school teacher we'll bring it back tomorrow, but I suspect we'll be bringing it home tomorrow, too! She insists on wearing her rainboots which are sadly oversized (four sizes too big for her) and fall off with every other step down the stairs and...well...I'm wet and tired. And now just plain cranky. I manage to bribe Miriam into the stroller (she, also, is drawn to puddles and rain boots...) with promises of a biscuit when we get home. But not Silvie.

Now I'm just turning into "Bad Mommy." I start to whine. I start to guilt her. I just want to get out of this horrible, driving rain with my three-year old child walking at a snail's pace.

I manage to bribe her, finally, to get into the stroller. With THREE biscuits when we get home. (She drove a hard bargain.)