One day when it was raining, the boys had to tryout their new Easter umbrellas:
Then the other night I sent Eli out to get Tim from mowing to tell him dinner was ready. He ran back in, breathless, "Mom look at these big drops of rain on my gun!" (They had been playing Davy Crockett.) "I'm going to get my umbrella and play outside!"
"Hey, it's time for dinner, let's just eat first and then as soon as you are done you can go outside with your umbrella."
"Oh, man!" Pause, "Okay."
We eat dinner and then Eli races out to the porch to get his umbrella and a minute later he walks back in the kitchen, shoulders drooping and looks like he is about to cry.
"Hey buddy, what's wrong?" Knowing he's going to say his umbrella broke.
"It's not raining anymore." He says it like I made it stop raining. Oh if only I did have that much power!
"Eli, it's not my fault, I said you could play in the rain, but it stopped, I didn't make it stop. God's in charge of things like that, not me!" He starts to snicker and I continue, "I guess if you really want it to rain, you can talk to God about it."
By now he thinks it's all pretty funny that he was getting so upset about something that we can't do anything about, which is where I was hoping it would head.
He laughs and goes to find his gun and play "Davy."