by Mary Holloman
Tears poured down his cheeks, not unlike the streams of rain making their relentless trek down the window panes. A certain three-year-old had his heart set on playing outside with Daddy, who’d just gotten home from work. But a storm had materialized out of nowhere, forcing me to deliver the terrible news: we had to stay inside.
After the initial stages of denial and anger, my son wiped the tears from his eyes and stared out the window. He crossed his arms and said under his breath, “I will stop the rain.”
Ok, I thought, that didn’t sound menacing at all.