weather.com, I understand we hath forsaken thee. And now you smite us, in April, with Augustan heat and humidity. Who confessed my dalliance with weatherunderground to you?
We were left without recourse. We had to blow up the pool.
Now the calendar god will punish us. Gregorian? Sorry? I do, I promise. I know it's April.
We were sunned out, so we came back inside for some quality naked time.
And after the girls napped we suggested going out for dinner and ice cream. The one who picks out her own clothes and talks in sentences said, I'm getting CHOCOLATE ice cream! and came downstairs in a new white dress. You can imagine how well that worked out.
The other one didn't say anything about her ice cream preference, but she did rub herself in her fettuccine. And of course, we got home too late for bath time so that one went to bed smelling of sunscreen Alfredo.
Here is my question: ten or twenty years hence, will the scientists be telling us that more skin damage is caused by slathering of chemicals than by sun exposure? Because weather.com, I worry about that. And the consolation I've clung to is that the girls don't really get that much sunscreen basted on them each year. But now you've made me begin with the embalming in April.Don't get angry. I'm not complaining!
New motto: April showers bring drought and sunstroke.
weather.com didn't think that was funny.
Sorry. So sorry. I'll accept this penance. Please don't send locusts.