I slather my face in sunscreen.
Don't want to get burned.
Don't want skin cancer.
When I try to put it on my son he screams and runs away, but he is whiter than me.
He needs it.
"Come here," I say, my hands smeared with sunscreen. "It's good for you. It's good for your skin."
He keeps running, running far away.
He disappears from sight.
He'll be back, right? Right?