In 1985 we moved to Hong Kong. I was seven, my brother was three. Not too long after we moved a pretty hefty typhoon moved into the region. Before it got too strong, we went out to grab some canned food, books, games and crafts so that we could batten down the hatches and wait it out.
We got soaked. The five minute walk from the bus stop to our flat was crazy! If we had jumped into a pool with all our clothes on, I’m not sure we would have been as wet as we were!
Mom dried us all off and filled us up with hot chocolate. I read my Hardy Boys books and assembled one of those wooden T-Rex skeletons.
Sounds weird, but to this day I associate typhoons with fun. And I love rain. All because of Mom.
My perception, as a child, was largely based on how my parents reacted to things.
I wonder what I can do to help my children learn to love rain?
