About 10 seconds into her first classic Looney Tunes cartoon, my 4-year-old asked: “Why did Bugs grow up to be so mean?”

I could understand why she was so puzzled. The “Baby Looney Tunes” have their issues, but they’re not chasing each other around with guns, blowing each other up or dropping anvils on each others’ heads. There’s nothing going on in Granny’s nursery to indicate that almost every single one of her charges will grow up to be a psychopath.

What went wrong?

Maybe Warner Brothers should have realized there would be problems reconciling the babies with their grown-up counterparts.

I have to say, the whole “baby” thing is starting to get on my nerves.

All last week, my daughter wanted to know when we could watch the “Baby Goofy” episode of “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.” After it finally aired on Sunday, she turned her attention to “Snow Buddies,” which is a straight-to-DVD movie about puppies who pull sleighs and TALK, she kept telling me.

My 11-year-old tried to convince her to watch “Eight Below” instead, but while those dogs also pull sleighs, they’re grown up and don’t talk. My daughter just didn’t see the appeal.

I guess little kids don’t care about quality nearly as much as they care about having characters they can relate to, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Still, it’s understandably jarring when they realize that the sweet little babies they know didn’t grow up to be the kindest adults.

We may not be able to build snowmen together, but there’s something kind of glorious about having a family in the wet Hawaii winter.

It’s cuddle weather, time to huddle together under an umbrella, snuggle together in front of a movie or just peer out of the window together planning what we’re going to do when there’s a break in the rain.

Okay, it’s not really that romantic, but there’s something cozy about turning on the heater instead of the air-conditioner and there’s nothing like a thick comforter to take the edge off after a cold day.

The good thing about rain is that it gives the family a common enemy. It may not magically wash away sibling rivalry or the urge to rebel, but a heavy downpour can drown out the sound of some of the pettiest squabbles and perfectly timed flash of lightning can take the sting out of an insult. It’s no fun poking fun at someone who’s too busy waiting for the thunder to pay attention.

I’m never going to pretend that I enjoy driving in the rain, but I have to admit that I don’t always mind it.

Sometimes it just buys a little silence as everyone pools their navigational skills to make it out of one of those harrowing storms that defeat the fastest windshield wiper setting.

Other times, it provides entertainment as my son looks for flash floods and waterfalls while my daughter urges me to drive through puddles.

In the mornings, rain just creates a sense of camaraderie as my son and I helplessly watch traffic back up even more than usual, giving us the false impression that no one but the two of us can appreciate how important it is to get to school on time. We pass the time by predicting whether the rain will end up closing the Pali, wondering whether the traffic is slow because of an accident or people’s general inability to drive when it’s raining and debating whether it would be faster to take H-3 even though it’s miles out of our way.

I don’t know why, but listening to an 11-year-old’s perspective on traffic issues never fails to amuse me.

Normally, a wet commute can be a lousy way to start the day, but often that extra layer of intensity just means extra satisfaction when we’re finally able to get out of the car. On mornings when we battle the rain and win, I usually don’t even mind getting wet on my way in the door because it feels like I’ve actually accomplished something just by arriving on time.

They aren’t just fairies. They’re flower fairies.

And they’re friends!

Naturally, you can’t put Flower Fairy Friends on just any stickers.

They have to be sparkly!

We ended up buying “My Little Pony Princess Promenade” instead because it was on the bargain rack and came with a toy pony and accessories.

Still, I couldn’t let this go without comment:

Here’s a parenting tip for you:

Don’t tell your kids when you get paid.

Well, at least don’t tell the ones who have no concept of money.

Or the ones who are just learning the days of the week.

Or you know what? Just don’t tell them!

I made my mistake early last week when I told my daughter that she had to wait until I got paid before I bought her a new pair of shoes.

She counted down the days and when payday came, she was ready.

Silly me for thinking she’d forget.

Sillier for me for not realizing that once she had her new sandals on her feet, the clock would start again. The alarm went off yesterday, when just by coincidence, I had to buy my son pair of slippers a field trip.

Silliest me for not thinking to buy them when my daughter wasn’t around.

HER new slippers were $3.19.

Disabusing her of the notion that she’s going to get new shoes every Thursday: That’s going to cost me.

When my daughter grows up, she wants to return to her preschool to be a teacher.

Does she want to shape young minds?

Of course not.

She wants to pick the helpers, you know, the kids who get to ring the bell, turn on the lights and set the lunch table.

Every morning during circle time, a teacher randomly picks the students who get to do the various classroom jobs that day. Meanwhile the kids wait anxiously, hoping she’ll pull their “star” from the basket.

Imagine having the power to make 30-something four-year-olds sit still in hopes that they’ll be allowed to do extra work. Who wouldn’t want to be able to wield that kind of control?