Rain Is a Good Thing

"But Papaaaaa," three-year-old Spazzy whined, "I wanna pway outside! I wanna go on the swing!"

"Maybe another day, Spazz," Billie consoled, running a hand through his son's downy dark brown hair. "It's pouring, baby."

"Bu...but it's just like bath time, Papa!" Spazzy squeaked, looking up at his father with sad, beseeching eyes. "It's just bath time..."

"No,no," Billie chided gently, shaking his head. "It's not like bathtime at all, if you're out in the rain for too long, you get sicky poo. And we don't want that, do we? When you get sicky you feel all yucky and have to take medicine and go see the doctor..."

"Nooooo!" Spazzy whined, throwing himself at his father's legs and burying his face in them. "NOOO! I don't wanna go to doctor!Nooo...he...he'll do the poky thing and the poky thing..."

The little boy unburied his face from his father's leg, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

"...the poky thing is ouchie..."

"I know, baby," Billie cooed gently, "but if you don't go outside, you won't have to go to the doctor. It's as simple as that. Come on now, there's plenty to do, we can color, or watch a movie, or you can help Daddy make cookies..."

He expected his son to jump at his final offer, but instead, the little boy simply peeled himself off his father's leg and toddled over to the glass door, pressing his little face up against it and looking out at the now soaking wet treehouse wistfully.

"Spazzy," Billie said just a bit sternly, "come on buddy, come, we can't play outside today. Maybe tomorrow. Come on, let's do something else, we can make cookies...and eat ice cream...and watch Cars..."

Once again expecting the boy to jump at the offer, Billie was fairly surprised when the boy paid him no mind and continued to stare out the door.

"Spazzy..." Billie said, raising his voice just a bit more than he had before. "Come on, Spazzy, come here..."

Spazzy unstuck his face from the door and turned to face his father with tears in his deep green eyes.

"Papa...pweeeaassee?" he begged as the tears began to stream down his face. "P-p-pwease?"

As much as the look the boy gave him melted his heart, and as much as it pained him to say no, Billie had to do what he had to do.

"No, Spazzy. I already said no. Now come on, let's make some cookies, yeah?"

Just as Billie turned away from the door and towards the pantry, making the very incorrect assumption that the boy had begun to follow him, the dog rounded the corner and let himself out through the doggy door.

At the moment, Billie didn't make much of it, or even notice it really, but his son, however, was a completely different story.

Upon seeing the dog let himself out, the creative and determined little boy decided to do the same.

He quietly lowered himself down onto the floor, looking over his shoulder to see if Papa was watching him. After affirming that his father was indeed distracted, Spazzy crawled forward and wriggled through the doggy door, making enough noise to get his father's attention.

"Spazzy?" Billie asked, straightening up.

After he received no response he turned around and looked out the sliding glass doors to see his son getting up off the floor and running out into the rain.

He immediately began to smolder with rage.

He sprinted toward the doors and ripped them open, screaming out into the open air, "BILLIE MARCIANO ARMSTRONG, YOU GET BACK INSIDE THE HOUSE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"