There’s really nothing that says summer to me like a nice, early-evening electrical storm. Driving to pick up the Potato tonight, I watched as a huge, purple streak of lightning split the sky, and thought, ‘now that’s what summer is about.’ I ran across the parking lot at his daycare, pelted by enormous drops of rain, and when we came out he looked at me quizzically before splashing through the puddles. We both got wet, but now that the Potato is insisting on buckling himself into his car seat at least I didn’t have to stand there getting soaked with the car door open, fumbling him into the belts.
I remember one night in high school, driving home from work in a similar shower while my car’s tires were awash from the flooding in the street. We drove through that again tonight, and I think the Potato was jealous that he couldn’t make as big a splash as the car could.