“Side! Side!” she shouts,
One cherub finger pointing toward the door,
Waiting not so patiently for me to get the message.
(If only she could always be so clear.)

Before I can fully acquiesce, she has to allow me
The honor of smothering her inch-to-inch in the
Sticky, liquid, goo that comes
In a fluorescent yellow tube
Called sunscreen.

SPF 50.
Clean, phthalate free, paraben free,
Cruelty free, no added fragrance.
Protects against broad spectrum UVA/UVB.
Protects against sunburn.
Protects against damage to sensitive skin.
Protects against knee scrapes and bruises.
Protects against splinters and pinched fingers.
Protects against all future heartaches and lost friends.
Protects against watching the world seemingly shatter,
When she is not old enough to understand,
And furthermore,
Protects against any and all ill will.

Okay, so maybe sunscreen only protects against the sun.
I mean, I guess it is in the name, but that’s okay.
I’ll be there to protect against the rest.