Me Man. Me No Need Sunscreen.

Day 205

“Can I borrow some of that?”  The request comes from a mom behind us on a green plaid blanket.  We’re all sitting in the blazing sun watching the Tigers play ball.  We’re settled in for the long haul and are taking necessary precautions: sun hats, umbrellas and sunscreen.   

Games run two hours.  Let me be clear.  The ref calls the game at two hours.  Little League baseball isn’t for those afraid of commitment.  

“I can’t promise if it’s any good, but you’re welcome to it,” I say, passing the sunscreen back to the woman.  “It’s from last summer.”  My husband brushes off my attempt to apply sunscreen to him.  Grunt.  Grunt.  Me man.  Me no need sunscreen.   

“I just don’t like my forehead and nose to get crunchy,” she says, applying the SPF. 

I’m with you, girlfriend.  With every birthday, I embrace a new moisturizer and/or sunscreen that promises to “protect my youthful appearance.”  Proctor and Gamble, you had me at “anti-aging.” 

Two hours later, we’re all a little crunchy, despite the sunscreen.

Game over, I reach for my husband’s hand and run my recently non-nibbled nails across it.  “Oh,” he cries, “a little sunburn, here.”  I think it’s exceptionally kind to not remind him that this new invention, sunscreen, helps with that.