From the way kids act when you try to apply sunscreen to their faces, you'd think it was toxic waste.
"No!" my kids yell, "Not the SUNSCREEN!"
"There is nothing unpleasant about this!" I exclaim back, "Or at least, there doesn't HAVE to be."
"It smells weird! It's cold! Its going to go in my eyes and burn me BLIND!" is the retort.
"Oh come on, you know that only happens when Daddy does it," I reply. It's true. David is about as adept at applying sunscreen as a grizzly bear. It's like the moment he squirts sunblock into his palm, a chemical reaction occurs, melding his fingers together into a paddle-like paw. He spreads sunblock on the kids' faces like he's spreading icing on a cupcake -- and do you know when the last time was I let him ice a cupcake? He's a good man, a smart man, a talented man, but he can't ice a cupcake worth a damn.
So if they give me a really hard time, I just threaten, "Do you want DADDY to do it?" That straightens them out. It also helps that Primo is old enough to do the job himself now, though he lacks the follow through to really rub the stuff in, and walks around with streaks of white on his face, the which doesn't look unlike bird shit.
All of which is to say, I totally laughed my ass of at this slideshow of kids in Central Park getting sunblock'ed up: Here Comes The Sunscreen
Have a good Fourth of July weekend, and stay shady.
So much coffee
18 hours ago