The brave souls who came before me crossed the mighty sea with wonderful traditions, a rich culture and a love of beer, the potato, shortbread, plaid, monarchies and lively music, but little melanin. I believe my husband's family may have caught a ride on the same boat. This genetic micro burst brought forth pale children, little glowing white people doomed to live their days under the brim of a large sun hat. Mary and Kate expect a full shellacking from me before they step foot off the back porch, and they are very patient, "Turn! Turn again! Pivot! Arms in the air, that's right, and wiggle. Now run around, let it dry, and once again".
These wonder sheets are just the thing. Little wipes that allow me to cover every inch of their faces, for fear that the sun hat may blow off, risking exposure in the time it takes for me to grab it and stick it back on the small head.
We, as a family, are a real boon to the sunblock industry. I carry a fully loaded can of spray with me wherever I go. I pack sunblock like some women pack lipstick. My diaper bag no longer contains diapers, it's weighed down with sprays, wipes, creams and tubes all meant to allow us to stay out in our beloved sun for a wee bit longer than nature intended. I buy sun hats, sun glasses and beach umbrellas in bulk. 70 SPF? Have you anything a bit higher?
Pity those ancestors, certainly that trip across the pond was far from a tropical vacation cruise. I can't imagine there was much volleyball played on the Lido deck.