It’s almost a cliche now to blog about what ninnies Southern Californians are when it rains, especially those in the Los Angeles area. It’s also becoming a cliche to note that our TV news weather reports when it’s raining are always hysterical exhortations about “The Storm of the Century of the Decade of the Year of the Month of the Fortnight of the Week of the Weekday of the Day of the Afternoon of the Hour of the Minute!!! And Oh My God It’s Raining And We’re Melting AAAAIIIEEEEE!!!!!” All that kind of goes without saying. (Even though I just said it. Redundantly, even.) But L.A.’s ombrophobia is very close to home today so I’m going to talk about it anyway.

The phone rang at 7:30 this morning. It was Zoe’s school calling to inform us that classes were canceled for the day. It rained, you see. Well, to be fair, it rained and part of the campus was flooded. But still, they could have worked around it, I’m sure. But as I’ve noted before, this is a school that will cancel classes at the drop of a hat, and if they have to drop the hat in the first place, then so be it. So lest children (and more likely faculty) melt, school’s out for the day! And you working parents, good luck lining up childcare! Bye! Fortunately, we have an unemployed parent hanging around the house these days, which comes in really handy when school is cancelled for precipitous reasons and chilluns need minding.

The phone rang again about twenty minutes later. One of Zoe’s classmate’s fathers was on the line. His wife was out of town and he had to go to work and could his daughter maybe come over to our house for the day? Yes, word of the unemployeed and thus available for chillun-minding adult was spreading fast. So I said sure, bring her over. Two kids are easier to mind than one because they entertain each other and leave me free to play online poker all day.

The phone rang again ten minutes after Beth left for work. It was the nanny of another classmate wondering did Zoe want to come over for the day since there was no school? And that’s when Camp Daddy was born. I already had two kids here, what’s one more? I suggested she bring hers to me and I’d watch all three and she could have the day off. She leapt at the idea. Camp Daddy was in business.

So now it’s me and three kids and pouring rain. I’m being about as watchful as any dad you’ve seen in the movies might be: I’m letting the girls run rampant while I’m holed up in my office. I poke my head out from time to time and listen for screams or breaking glass or ominous silences, then I go back to letting the inmates run the asylum.

They’re eating a cheese and bacon pizza for lunch right now. The activities so far have included bouncing on the back yard trampoline in the pouring rain, jump-roping in the pouring rain, running in screaming circles in the pouring rain, and sitting at the window watching the pouring rain. These kids are clearly not fully-grown Angelenos yet because they are not afraid of the rain. This will come in time.

All things considered, Camp Daddy is working out pretty well. I may be on to a new career path here.