My son, the next Al Roker?

The following conversation happened Monday morning on the {VERY LONG} drive to Harrison's school:

Me:  What a pretty day we are going to have!

Harrison:  It is going to rain.

Me: No, I don't think so.  Those clouds are pretty, happy clouds, not rain clouds - unfortunately. {I love rain!}

Harrison:  Those clouds are rain clouds.  It is going to rain.

Me:  We'll see.

Soon after I dropped him off at school and went on my way.  I stayed indoors the entire day.  We had friends over for a birthday party and then my visiting teacher stopped by.  Then it was time to pick Harrison up.

As soon as I got on the road, I noticed something.  A giant, black wall of clouds due south of me.  Harrison's school is due south of us,  many, many miles away.  Then it started to rain.  The further south I got, the rain drops grew in size.  It felt like hail was pelting the car.  I couldn't see in front of me for a while.  I admit it, I was scared.

Thankfully I arrived to the school unscathed.  It was pouring and windy.  My dad, the principal, and his teachers kept the kids inside the front hall.  My dad and his teachers would run out to the parents' cars, ask which kids belonged to each cars, ran back inside and got the appropriate kids  - covered with an umbrella - to the appropriate cars.  By the time I got there, my poor dad was soaked.  It was quite a site.

After Harrison was heralded into the car he immediately said, "I told you it was going to rain."

Yes, Harrison, yes you did.