Sunscreen Has Become My Evil Overlord
The great heatwave of 2018 seems like it’s here to stay for the foreseeable future. Hurrah. Great. Smashing. Wonderful… yeah no, it’s actually getting a bit ridiculous at this stage now. Whoever left the child of Prague out for their nieces wedding can you please bring him in now? Can’t you see he’s run amok?!
I know, I know, you’re internally tut-tutting thinking that I’ll be complaining come the winter when it’s rainy and cold and it’s big coat and hat time… but you know what I’m not sure if I will? At least you can get togged out in wellies and layers and splash around, without the daily scourge of sunscreen…
Yes I said it… sunscreen! Dun, dun, duuuuuuuuun!
Sunscreen has become my evil overload ever since the ball of sun in the sky decided to take up camp over Ireland. I have to do its bidding every day, multiple times a day and its absolute torment!
I don’t care what brand you use, they are all greasy feckers. Everything sticks to your kids skin after it’s been applied and you’re left with greasy hands that are unable to perform even basic tasks like putting on the child’s shoes. I’m seriously considering inventing some kind of sheep dip style sun cream tank I can dip my toddler into everyday as soon as he gets up and then hey presto he’s done!
It’s a sticky, messy, greasy shit-show, but sadly it’s not like any of us can skip applying it to our toddlers and young kids. Not with record highs of 30 degrees and not a scamall sa spear and reports of young children attending A&E for sunburn and heatstroke. We’re doing our level best to keep them plastered in the stuff, but dear Jesus, it’s a pain in the arse!
Have you not tried using spray instead of cream?
Why yes, I have thanks for the helpful tip! And I’ll admit the sprays are essential, but you try spraying it on a moving, sometimes wobbly target like a toddler on an absolute mission to avoid being sprayed at all costs and see how easy it is to do it.
Honest to God, the second I get the bottle out, he’s like Usain Bolt off the blocks with me running after him trying to keep up with his ducking and diving. Then I manage to catch a leg or an arm or the corner of his nappy. I spray and somehow manage to make contact with his skin. He roars and writhes in mock agony as if I’ve poured acid onto him. I stay strong and try to rub it in just a smidge, before he breaks free of my now greasy grip and he’s off again for another revolution of the kitchen.
Needless to say we’re late for everything these days.