The opposite of sun worship

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When I first saw how bad the boys' sunburns were upon returning from their grandparents' I was shocked; when I saw that Ewan had developed blisters the size of quarters on his upper arms I almost cried and would have were not two boys depending on me to hold my stuff together. Chris and I washed their arms with vinegar and coated them with aloe. Ewan screamed and cried in pain. I had to hold him while Chris doctored his arms. He screamed "why is this happening to me?" and other things which caused Chris and I to give each other sorrowful looks.

In an effort to distract Ewan I thought of the silliest, most ridiculous thing to say, something which borrowed from the bathroom humor he finds so unbelievably hysterical.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" I asked him in a low voice.

"What?" he sobbed.

"I'm gonna go outside, find the sun, and kick the sun in the wiener for burning you."

 He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"MOM." Liam slid into the doorway aided by his socks. "Suns don't have ..."


"They're balls of gas ..."


"Hahaha! MOM. Did you hear me?? I said 'balls!'"

Life with boys. 

Yesterday the boys got new sketching pads and Ewan sat in the kitchen, coloring furiously. When he was finished, he walked over to me and presented me with this:

Me kicking the sun in the wiener and the sun pooing, as drawn by Ewan.

OH YES. It IS what you think it is. It's me kicking the sun in the wiener, but kicking it so hard that the sun crapped itself. I cannot emphasize how much I adore the look on the sun's face.

"That's YOU, Mama!" Ewan said, enthusiastically pointing to the little person doing the kicking.

It's now hanging on the fridge, right next to his painting of "Hell But Not the Bad Word the Place."

The takeaway: be careful what you say to your kids. They may draw a visual representation of it.

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