Once again, my weather-boyfriend has done me wrong. I wish that I could break it off, but I just can't. Despite the abuse he doles out semi-regularly, he's there for me every single morning. Sometimes he may screw up, and the results are disastrous, but often, much more often than not, I am wearing appropriate clothing.
We got wet.
On the 4th, by the river, before the fireworks. Wetness came out of the sky, and it landed on us, and into our "shelter" (i.e., not quite a tent, full of much screened area so as to "let in the cool breeze" which just so happened to be accompanied by wet chilly rain yesterday).
I had on shorts and a t-shirt. I brought a sweatshirt, but couldn't work out how to get it to cover my arms, my legs and J's freezing cold short-shorts-clad legs all at once. She brought a jacket, but it was a thin one, b/c her mother ( who was relying on her weather-boyfriend) told her to put away her thick oversized hoodie, b/c "it's going to be 84." The same mother who held her tongue when she wanted to call E crazy for wearing denim capris, b/c she knew that E's 11 year old "I am smarter than anyone" mentality would come out, and she would go put on a SECOND pair of capris on top of the first pair just to spite me.
But the fireworks were gorgeous, and considering everything, it was worth it to go, and it was worth it to be a wee damp and a lot chilly for a couple of hours.Labels: holidays, kids, weather |
