TRUST ME ON THE SUNSCREEN

First things first: I LOVE the summer. I love the warm days not having to worry about taking a coat out, the long evenings, going to the beach, and the fact that strawberries start actually tasting of strawberries.

But I don’t love suncream – or the application of it at least. I will say that despite being a fully-fledged Beta Mummy, I am pretty strict on the application of suncream before heading out into the sunshine – I am incredibly pasty myself, and Feral Child #1 is virtually translucent. I remember getting burnt as a child and I don’t want to be responsible for that happening to my kids, so I do make sure we slip, slap, slop, or whatever.

But my god it’s a ball-ache, isn’t it?! My kids hate having it applied, and squirm around like angry eels whilst I sit on them to pin them down. They thrash around just to ensure it goes in their eyes, then cry because it went in their eyes. They moan that it feels all yucky (yes kids, I know, it’s horrible), and that it tastes disgusting (well duh – shut your mouth then!) They’ll happily apply it to themselves, of course, which guarantees that not a single solar ray will manage to filter through to that one particular small patch on their torso that they can reach. What’s left of the suncream is generally then smeared on their school uniform, in their hair, on the carpet, on my work outfit, over the cat.

It’s lucky that our mornings are such a peaceful, laid-back affair, and that we have plenty of time to dedicate another 20 minutes or so to slathering the stuff on before leaving the house

Unfortunately, like forcing your kids to eat the occasional vegetable, and strapping them into their car seat despite their best planking efforts, it’s a necessity. In the words of good old Baz Luhrmann: Trust me on the sunscreen.

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