It is a dark, gloomy, cold, rainy day. My tiny dog cannot be more disappointed. She keeps wanting to go outside, and I keep telling her she isn't going to like it because it's raining. She hates to get her dainty little toes wet. Every couple hours I get tired of her complaining and I go and open the door for her. She just stands there staring out at the rain, a forlorn look on her face. She blames me for it, and I'm tired of arguing with her.
It reminds me of a time long ago when I was babysitting my nephews. The older one, about three at the time, kept wanting to go outside to play in the yard, and I kept telling him he couldn't because it was raining. Finally, he noticed the rain had quit, and we had this conversation:
Him: Can I go out now?
Me: No, not right now.
Him: Why?
Me: Because you'll get all muddy.
Him: Why?
Me: Because everything is wet.
Him: Why?
Me: Because it rained.
Him: Why?
Me: Because the clouds were super-saturated, causing water vapor to condense into drops that fell to earth.
Him: Oh.
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