Rainy Day

Tate loves rainy days. He always has. This afternoon when he rolled into the kitchen to ask if he could go outside I couldn’t say no. I might get some grief for this, but I have never been the mom that believes that being in rain equals getting sick. To my credit, I did make him put on shoes and offered him a jacket. He refused the jacket, saying he wanted to feel the rain.

Tate coasted down the driveway and into the cul-de-sac. He sat outside for a few minutes, watching the light rainfall make dark spots on his pajamas and enjoying the cold.

The grin on his face changed to determination when he decided to go back in the house and realized he was at the bottom of our slanted driveway. You could tell his decision was made. He worked hard to make it to the top of the driveway and on to the front door by himself. His tires spun out in the rain, and he was cold, but he didn’t quit. My face was covered in a mixture of raindrops and teardrops by the time he reached the top. Tate’s bald head was dotted with rain and perspiration.

I made Tate a big mug of hot cocoa and topped it with homemade marshmallows leftover from Christmas to warm him up. It’s tempting to leave you with that cozy image, but the truth is he forgot about the cocoa when he was waiting for it to cool, and it was a lukewarm disappointment by the time he tasted it. It was a great afternoon, abandoned cocoa and all.

Tate has had another busy week. Monday and Wednesday his teacher came to the house for lessons, and he had physical therapy today. Tomorrow he has an occupational therapy appointment. Next week he has a lot of treatment scheduled at the clinic so we do not expect him to be as mobile or in such high spirits. Knowing what’s coming next week makes days like today even more precious.