Better parenting through Inertia

“Mary, Noah is running in the house!”

“I see that Emily.” I scoop Noah as he pounds by me. “But you know what? Today is such a rainy day, we won’t be going outside.”

We won’t. Not if the current level of inundation continues. The rain provides a humming, drumming white noise, makes a greyish sheen in the air, slooshes off my porch roof not in rivulets but in sheets. Pouring, it is.

“If we stay inside all day, we’ll need to have a good, long, noisy, running-around playtime.” I’m informing her, but I’m also bracing myself. It’s cute as all get-out, when they go all rowdy, but lordy, it is LOUD. (“Pitter-patter of little feet”, my ar… eye.)

Emily’s face goes still. She’s not quite buying into what I’m saying. I’m not sure why.
.

“We can play Sleeping Bunnies. We’ll do butterflies, too.” Emily loves being a butterfly.

She stares at me, waiting.

“…and Popcorn,”

Blink.

“…and Smelly Skunk.”

This kid has impassive down cold. Made of stone, she is, and whatever it is she’s after, I’m not delivering. One last try.

“Or would you rather make an obstacle course?”

Geez. Now she’s not even blinking, and me, I’m tapped out. No more ideas.
.
.

Okay, then. Two can play at this game. I stare at her. Expectant. Waiting.

Blink.
Blink.
Blink.

And… Emily’s face regains animation. Her lips part. “Or maybe we could do a craft!”

Of course! The Emiliphant never forgets. Rainy days are Craft Days. Rowdy play is all well and good, but gluesticks and glitter are the pinnacle of Good Times.

And all I had to do to solve that little mystery was stop being so damned helpful.