...the milky smell of sunscreen wafting through the 100-degree interior of the car. The air conditioner, turned up to the highest setting, spews warm air, clearly staging a protest against these inhuman working conditions. The baby, trapped in his plastic and foam prison, issues similar protests until he is handed a sippy cup filled with tepid water. Soon, the only noise from the back is the contented slurping of a thirsty child.
...a giggling, splashing, kicking child who wiggles and slithers away in a wading pool, slipping away in a crowd of similarly splashing children. A moment later, he has decided to immerse himself completely and, heart beating wildly, I pull him back up. He turns to me with a grin, knowing all along that I'd save him.
...the dappled sunlight of a park trail marked with white arrows to show us the way. The hard, packed dirt stirs beneath our feet as we stomp our way through, keeping our eyes peeled for poison ivy and errant snakes. Squirrels chatter at us in irritation as we interrupt their mid-morning nap.
...the sweet, sticky, drip-drip-drip of redness down our arms as we bite into a newly cut watermelon. The baby, caught up in the moment, eats through half a rind before we think to stop him and when we finally do, he laughs uproariously, stopping to chatter his beaver teeth at us.
...the sweet weight of a sleeping child, exhausted from his sun-filled adventures. As I lean in to kiss his neck, I get a whiff of the milky smell of sunscreen.
No comments:
Post a Comment