AND SO, when it has been raining for 40 days and 40 nights (for Christmas!) and it will not stop, you go out and make your rounds. And check on everything that needs to be checked on, and chase away the squirrels, and make sure the deer do not get too close to the cabin. Then you come in and beg Dad to pick you up and dry you off, and give you just ‘a little something’ (a teaspoon of cream perhaps) to chase away the chill. Then you wrestle with his pajama leg, and his hand, if he is foolish enough to put it down there. Then you beg him to crumple up a wad of paper and throw it on the kitchen floor where it is good for at least 15 minutes of floor-hockey entertainment, including under the dishwasher or the refrigerator where Dad must extricate it with a yardstick or some such. Then you sigh happily, give Dad one last look, and go off to take a catnap. And that, folks, is how it’s done, on a rainy day.