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?