It’s early. It’s raining. And I don’t want to go to work. If I could plan my day today the way I want to, it would include things like pajamas, hot tea, my blankie, a Doris Day movie or two, and lots of staring out of the window. Yes, lots and lots of staring out of the window. Perhaps I would even throw a good book and a nap into the mix. Alas, it is not to be.
I am unlike my children. My (young adult) kids see that it’s raining outside, and they respond by wanting to go out in it. Their youthful exuberance requires that they experience the rain in all of its coldness and wetness and chill you to the bone-ness. Yesterday it was raining and my offspring (including my girl) met up with some friends and played soccer out in the elements. Wet, muddy, super-slidey soccer.
I almost tried to talk them out of it. I almost gave in to the “Telly” side of my personality (you know, the monster on Sesame Street that worries incessantly over everything). As in.. oh, if they go outside and play soccer in the rain, they might break a leg, and if they break a leg, they might be crippled for life, and if they are crippled for life, they will never be able to work, and if they can’t work, they will become homeless drug addicts, and if they become homeless drug addicts, they will never get married, and if they never get married, I will never have any grandchildren… well, you get the idea.
No, I watched them lace up their cleats, (gasp! no shin guards!?), funnel out the door all laughing and carefree, while I sat on the couch waving and smiling and wishing them a good time.
I should not have worried. My kids and their friends returned two hours later, soaked and muddy, but happy, none the worse for wear. I promptly sat them down and fed them cherry cream cheese pie.
Maybe next time I’ll join them. They would love that, right?
Posted by teeveebee 
Posted by teeveebee 
