As I was vacuuming Filipe's office (yes, it's time for his annual cleaning), Sofia came in from playing on the back porch.
Sofia: Mom, is it going to rain today?
Me: No.
Not an unreasonable answer, considering we live in south Texas. I don't want to give her false hopes.
Sofia: But Mom, I felt something wet fall on me! I think it's going to rain!
Me: Maybe it was bird poop.
Sofia then paused, brow wrinkled in concentration, I would guess imagining bird poop in her hair.
Sofia: Noooo!
So she leaves the office, potentially traumatize from the idea of fecal matter falling on her head.
She comes back two minutes later.
Sofia: Mom!! It IS raining! Come and see!
So we go outside, and sure enough, there are some raindrops falling on our head. Not bird poop at all. After staring at the strange sight with a look of wonder on my face (after all, we DO live in south Texas!), Sofia gives me a dirty look, and tells me as only a vindicated 4-year-old can do:
Sofia: See, I
told you it was raining.
My deepest apologies.