I sit here, slightly roasted due to a lack of sunscreen on my shoulders, wondering how it is possible that I can successfully lather up all three children (four including my nephew), but manage to miss at least one spot on myself. Could it be karma?
Yesterday, I found myself quite distracted by Ivy's perpetual path of destruction. I seemed to be one step behind her all day. I was rolling with it. Hell, I didn't even notice that I was cleaning up mess after mess. Then came 4:32 pm (I don't really know the exact time, but it does make me sound a little more attentive doesn't it)? I was vacuuming up the dirt from Doug's orange tree that Ivy found to be great decoration the kitchen floor. It was really no big deal. I was smiling to myself because I know that Doug truly believes that this twig will eventually bear fruit for us to enjoy. Then Violet yells "Mommy! Ivy has your lotion!"
Now in most cases it is not a huge crisis to find your child sitting at the kitchen table, covered in half a bottle of lotion. But your heart really starts to race when that lotion is a lotion with a hint of self-tanner. Visions of my baby's skin streaked in bright carrot orange raced through my head. I scrub her body with baby wipes, consider calling poison control, then come to my senses. My husband, who happens to be a family doctor, had warned me to keep my lotion up and out of the way just the day before--clearly the kitchen table is now within her reach. I didn't want to call him, but figured the kids would tell him as soon as he walked in, so I figured I'd rather tell him via telephone. After the dial of shame, I threw her in the shower and scrubbed her down some more.
Luckily the crisis was averted. There is no evidence of any artificial tan on the child. Funny enough, I think Ivy's encounter with my lotion is the closest thing to a homegrown orange we will find in this house!