Normandy kids playing in the pouring rain

Natalya was out, and I was home with Gabriel and his little friend Lola. They were in the kitchen, at least that was where I left them, watching cartoons.

I went upstairs to do some work, and after half an hour I hear them outside, I could hear them through my office window.

If I stand up from my desk and lean sidways and forwards, I can see the courtyard behind the house. There I caught a glimpse of two shiny raincoats running around, one yellow and one red. The coats were shiny because it was pouring rain. And they were giggling, and running around with the dog as this rain came down in buckets. They did have their hoods up, a surprising nod to good sense, but besides that grown-up gesture, they could have cared less about the rain. I suspect that it was the only reason they went outside to play in the first place. Normandy does that to a kid. Rain is fun.

Their happiness was contagious because I dropped what I was doing without hesitation, and trotted downstairs, grabbed a coat, a hat, and went out to join them.

I opened the back door quickly, and stepped out — looming more, really — and announced with a mock stone-face:

"What are you doing?"

They froze in their tracks.

I laughed out loud, bolted into the rain, and ran around them in a circle, and sure enough they came running after me screaming with delight.