"Wow! Neat boat!" I cried. "Can we take it out for a ride?"

Dad shook his head. "No, son," he said. "We're saving it for a rainy day."

Well, ok, I sulked. I wanted to try the new boat out, but Dad was the dad.

About a week later, it rained. Boy, was I excited.

"Dad!" I shouted. "It's raining! Let's get the boat out!"

Dad shook his head slowly.

"Raining," I repeated with emphasis. "It's a rainy day!"

"Not rainy enough," said Dad. "Not nearly rainy enough."

A month later, it poured for three days. I waited patiently for Dad to call me to help get the boat out. On the third day, my patience snapped.

"It's been raining for three days now," I pointed out. "Now, can we take the boat out?"

"Not yet," said Dad in his sage voice. "It's for a really rainy day."

Showers, squalls, thunderstorms, and assorted cyclones have since come and gone, and I have learned not to bug Dad about the boat. Even during the current troubles, I was holding my tongue. It was Dad himself who broached the subject. He was expressing his appreciation for a patient, prudent son.

"Son," said Dad. "I'm proud of you for not bugging me about the boat, and I just want you to know, that your patience will be rewarded when that really rainy day arrives. I'll tell you something. That nervous Nellie down the road is going to rue the day he broke out his ark after only 40 days."