Rainbows and Clouds Edition

 

Today's was a lovely sunrise.  Julian, Messiah, and I left the house at 6:25, just in time to see the best of it as we headed east to Julian's bus and then Messiah's school.  Both boys know this:  that Gaga LOVES the longer days.  They've heard it every February for their 11 and 8 years respectively.  They indulge me by never rolling their eyes and saying they KNOOOOOWWWWAH.

After the bus pulled off, after we made our way out to the main drag, Messiah said, "Gaga.  We never see rainbows any more.  Are they all gone?"  I assured him that rainbows are not all gone; that as long as there is breath in our lungs, there will be rainbows.  I reminded him that certain weather patterns need to take place in order for us to see rainbows, which happens to be relevant because he is studying weather in his science class right now.  His next question made me realize anew how his brain is completely different, not only from that of his parents who are not naturally deeply inquisitive, but also from the brains of anyone I have ever known.  It is his most endearing quality.

"Gaga, when the clouds are moving fast, how can they see where they're going?"  The long pause before my reply was the direct result of my astonishment.  The thought that he believed the clouds could somehow see left me speechless.  I wanted to pull the car over, fling open the back door, unbuckle him, and snatch him up in a hug that he would never forget.  But to know Messiah is to know he does not want to be observed as unusual.  He does not enjoy labels like "unique" and "interesting" when it comes to how he learns.  

I told him that clouds don't see.  That the wind moves the clouds, and that all weather is reliant on water and wind.  I told him that things can be both random and predictable, and that we are all subject to the whims of Mother Nature.  And I assured him that before long, we would witness another rainbow.  And then he said, "Gaga, if we are not together but I am with Mommy, will you call her and tell her to show me?"

I promised.  He hopped out of the car and headed into school, shouting, "Love you" over his shoulder.