I Say Umbrellas are for Sissies

Today, I dropped my five-year-old daughter off at school and watched the music teacher laugh in her face.

We woke up this morning to a rainstorm. It has been REALLY dry here, so it was a welcome sight.

Just as I was getting ready to walk out the front door, Emma reminded me that I needed an umbrella. I told her "no I don't" before I walked to my car unprotected.

One of my weaknesses is that I really do believe I am much cooler than I actually am. A way that I have manifested this over the years is to never carry an umbrella and to walk in the rain when others run. It's pretty rebellious, I know.

Oh, I've used umbrellas, like when my wife bought me one several years ago for Christmas, but it was more out of love than necessity. I just wanted to show her I was grateful for the gift -- and I would do it again, if I had to.

So today I pull up at Emma's school and we're three cars from the front door. Each day the music teacher stands at the door and welcomes the students. Brandy would know this woman's name, but all I know is that she really does an exceptional job of making children feel welcome.

On sunny mornings sometimes Emma tries to stay in the car until we pull directly in front of the doors. We have had discussions before about how it's okay for her to get out and walk 20 feet, how it is the courteous thing to do for the cars behind us. I'm not sure if my words have ever registered.

I'm still not sure, because I think it was the rain that got her out of the car this morning. Three car lengths from the door, I see Emma glance down at her umbrella on the floorboard, the first hint that she takes after her mother. She then asked me if it was too early for her to get out of the car. I told her to use her umbrella and get walking to school.

She happily got out of the car and walked the remaining twenty feet or so under her pink Scooby Doo umbrella.

The music teacher loved it so much that by the time Emma made it to her she was laughing. I watched her bend down and say something to Emma. I'm not sure what she said but I'm confident it was something kind and encouraging.

For me this whole experience is notable only when you consider what happened when I dropped Isaac off minutes earlier. I knew he didn't have an umbrella, so I figured I would drive him up closer than usual to the front doors of the school. Before I could articulate my plan, he opened the door, got out of the car and walked unfazed through the rain at a distance three times as far as Emma.

Oh yeah, that's my boy, like father like son. He must know instinctively that umbrellas are for sissies.

See what I mean about me having an false sense of coolness? This umbrella aversion is not necessarily the best trait to pass on to future generations, yet I proudly do so. Thank goodness their mother is a saint, because without her, wet heads would be the least of their problems.