Sunscreen. I've always had an aversion to the sensation of rubbing lotion onto slippery skin. The roots of this go back even before I dated my sweaty backed husband who innocently asked me if I'd apply sunscreen to his back at the beach. Poor man, he had no idea.
And I have a weird, perfectionistic reaction to applying sunscreen-what if I miss a streak and your child gets an angry boiled stripe down the arm, or the back of the neck? I think about these things, and then I don't even want to start with the process. I prefer to sit in the full sun, sans screen, and fret.
But I've gotten religious about it. Fear drove me past my aversions.
Tattling.
Oh, how I hate it. Oh, how kids love it.
I may have delivered a lecture abillioncountless times about boundaries; being responsible for our own choices, not others; the difference between getting a friend OUT OF or INTO trouble, and then the bottom line: don't tell on your friend unless someone is a)bleeding profusely; b) trailing entrails; c) has pieces of splintered bone exposed; or c) is suspended in unnatural circumstances.
They always stare at me blankly.
Everything else about watching you kids is sheer, unadulterated bliss. Day in, and day out.
Splashing in the toilet.
Peeing on my bed.
Throwing cat litter.
Sucking on the arms of the couch.
Dumping the dog's water.
Picking the perennials.
Petting dead birds.
Throwing soup.
Drawing on the cupboards, table, floor.....
Swinging on the drapes.
Throwing electronics.
Sucking on our toothbrushes.
Relocating the contents of the sandbox to the lawn, the couch, the living room floor.
Bringing me bouquets of dandelions.
Laughing at my jokes.
And calling me Joycie.
