Why I shouldn't be cooped up when it's raining . . .

You never know what you'll write when it's all rainy outside. So here's the rain from a four year old's point of view . . .

~*~

It's raining. Plippy, ploppy rain. Raining everywhere. Raining on the window. Raining on the garden. Raining in puddles for me to jump in. Splish, splash.

It hasn't rained for a very long time. Grandpa says it's been 'an age' since it rained last. What's 'an age'?

I got to watch the rain from the window in Grandpa's room. Daddy helped me pull the chair over, helped me climb up on it. I watched the rain fall on top of the cars with their windscreen wipers going whoosh, whoosh. The cars like to splash in puddles too.

I could hear the rain on the roof this morning: tip, tap, tip tap, thud. My toes and feet were all cold because I kicked my blanket off the bed last night. Daddy made porridge this morning with sultanas hiding inside. He siad it would make my insides all warm.

Daddy said it was raining cats and dogs, but I looked outside and it wasn't, it was just raining rain. I wanted to see the cats and dogs, but Daddy said we had to visit Grandpa. He helped me get dressed in my pink jumper and my pink pants with my pink gumboots. I like pink.

I twirled my pink umbrella when we walked to the bus stop and Daddy got drips all over him. He had to help me jump over the drain, because the water was rushing really fast, and I could have been sucked down. I can't swim very well.

~*~

I kinda like this. Want to work on it some more even though I should be doing some work . . .