I was waiting for a package from my parents (a package of fresh, homemade fudge, to be exact) and was waiting for Mr. B to clean up his playdoh mess before we went to the mailbox on the scooter.
After asking him 3 times to put the playdoh in the tote, I looked out the sliding glass door to see that it had started raining.
“Look, Mr. B., it’s raining. If you had picked up your play-doh when I first asked you to, we could go check the mail. Now it’s raining and we can’t go.”
Mr. B cocked his head to the side with a thoughtful look on his little face and said, “But Momma, how does not picking up my play-doh make it rain?”