We had what will no doubt be the first of many summer thunderstorms this afternoon. When I was a kid they were regular as clock work. Around 2.15pm the dark clouds would start to come over, by 2.30pm half the class would be continually glancing out the windows at the lightning and counting the seconds until the sound of thunder caught up. By 2.55pm it’d be pissing down cats and dogs and school would let out at 3pm. The kids who caught the bus used to make a dash across the quad to try and make it to their buses dry, the ones who got picked up would huddle under the awnings until they saw their ride turn up and my sisters and I used to try and run home from school in the middle of the thunderstorms through a park that rapidly became a three inch pond with hardly any trees arriving home soaked to the bone and laughing our collective arses off.
If it was raining really heavily we’d get fairly saturated before barely making the school gate and we knew there was no point rushing home and getting in trouble for ruining our shoes any quicker so we’d sometime race leaf boats down the gutters and dwardle our way home. That’s what little girls do when it’s raining cats and dogs out.
Today I discovered what little boys do. When I went to pick up the Small Child this afternoon, he and two of his little mates were standing in the pouring rain seeing who could pee with greatest accurately into the storm drain. Nice.