Let's Not Listen to That Guy Anymore

The unexpectedly beautiful sunshine today and unpredictable weather of the past week or more has reminded me of a particularly fond memory that I would like to share.

Our last summer in Portland was rather chilly. It rained often. When it didn't, a dingy nebulous haze sealed off the Willamette Valley. It was gross, and demoralizing.

The most stressful part about the whole situation was explaining it to the kids that I worked with. Usually in the summer the weather gets warm enough that we are able to bring out the sprinklers and wading pools, and let them be typically developing kids for a  few moments. I'm not going to even pretend this is anything less than awesome. There's something about seeing a small child totally drenched and gleefully sprinting around a playground that energizes your soul.

Before Summer came, we had told all the kids how amazing it was going to be. We promised them pools, and picnics. We said there would be entire days of playing outside in the sun. Only, the sun barely ever came. A significant portion of the season was spent inside watching the clouds pass by, and the mist trickle down. Nevertheless, we pressed on. We assured the kidlets that the sun was on its way, and the heat would eventually make all our dreams come true.

But, company policy dictated that the weather had to be a certain temperature before we could allow that particular breed of merriment. Imagine trying to explain this to your average preschooler. Now, try and figure out how to word it to a group of preschoolers who have cognitive, developmental, and emotional delays. It's incredibly difficult, and the fall-out is a superior form of suck.

Not wanting to take the blame for any of it (because the physical and emotional repercussions would be of tantrumtastic proportions), we blamed it on The Weatherman. We told them that he had to predict excessive sun, and early-morning heat for the fun to start and the pools to come out. Naturally, they kept asking, and we kept relaying his inconsistent messages. Then, the local forecasters began erroneously predicting heat waves. How did we respond? Of course we got our hopes up and declared it to all the kids. Glee, ecstasy, and anxious anticipation ensued as we prepared for the tardy summer weather to arrive.

Only, it never did. Frustration set in amongst all involved. The kids lost faith in our words, and, despite our attempts, we began to lose the will to foster their hope. Finally, one day a particularly adorable child approached me after peering longingly out at the muggy and overcast skies. He widened his doe-eyes, shrugged his little shoulders, and with a comically large sigh said,

"All the time The Weather Man says 'it will be sunny' it's rainy, & all the time he says 'it will be rainy' it's sunny. So, I think let's not listen to that guy anymore."

Even still, the only reply that seems logical is: Here, here good sir. I agree. I mean really, who is he to tell us what's up anyway?