A small, solemn-faced boy stood next to his father as I drew dad's blood today. With shining black hair and current eyes set an implacable golden moon of a face, he had the stocky, sturdy build of a tiny sumo wrestler. "Are you hanging out with Dad today?" I asked him.
The boy thought about it for a moment. "Mmm, yes," he replied.
"That's nice." I smiled at him as I switched tubes. Dad remained stoically silent. "Are you going to do anything fun?"
"Go to school," he answered. "Then play outside maybe." The child spoke clearly enough, but the letter L was a small challenge for him. I realize this is not something parents wish to have happen in their children's lives, but non-parent types like myself often find it charming.
"I hope the sun comes out for you. Do you think it will?"
The boy considered this possibility with the seasoned cynicism of a native Pacific Northwesterner. "I don't think so." He tilted his head and mulled a bit before adding, "It was a little sunny yesterday, though."
"It did get sunny for a little while yesterday," I agreed. "The sun popped out, but then it ran away and hid again!"
The child frowned and shook his head. "No, the clouds covered the sun."
Well. Right you are, Oh Wise One. How could I argue?