Falling on my head

They woke from their naps just in time to see the first drops of a summer shower turn into a torrential downpour.

"Mommy," exclaimed Abby, face pressed against my once-clean windows, "it's raining!"

And in a moment of temporary insanity, I replied, "Who wants to go with me to get the mail?"

A chorus of "Me! Me!" was my answer. Jacob sat on the floor, flapping and giggling as if he understood. I left him inside with his dad (the sane ones, apparently) and quickly dressed the kids in rain jackets and boots, as if proper attire might somehow keep a two and three year old dry in a rainstorm.

Caleb, I should mention, has no boots, so I sent him out barefoot. The end result was the same. Caleb's feet were soaked from jumping in puddles, and Abby's were soaked from running around in boots that filled with water within minutes. For the record, rain boots are only worthwhile if the rain is not falling from the sky.

They loved every minute of it. And I loved watching them love every minute of it.

Except for the part where they were drinking the water pouring out of the gutter. That minute I could have done without.

And for the record, we never made it to the mailbox. It was raining too hard.