Poor Isabella. After a long morning of wandering about the house while I worked, she was so excited when I looked up and asked, “Do you want to go for a walk before lunch?”
She impatiently stamped and snorted while I gathered all the necessary tackle: cell phone, keys, diaper bag, sippy cup and endured patiently while I put on her socks and shoes and a jacket. Then, just as I was putting on my own jacket, the sky opened up. Downpour.
Not wanting to completely disappoint her, I decided to at least go out to the porch. She stood by the stroller and picked at the straps, not comprehending why I was reneging on my promise of a walk. I even let her go down the steps and into the yard, hoping she might distract herself by stomping in puddles. But the rain was too cold and wet, unpleasant on her head and face and hands. Soon she was weeping and wailing and I had to carry her back into the house.
Fortunately, the process of changing out of her wet pants was a pleasant distraction and she was soon fascinated by the sight of her colorful socks. I forsee an afternoon of whining, though, if this rain doesn’t let up by the time she wakes from her nap.