Rash, burn, and under the bus

Summer has had several effects in our household. The first symptom of Indiana heat appeared when I noticed that my four year-old could not keep his hands out of his pants. The poor boy would just dig away at his little butt. Now, as any good parent must do, I went in for a closer inspection. Apparently, the wee guy suffers from some sort of prickly heat-type phenomenon in the area of his backside. Of course we purchase the cream necessary for keeping said condition at bay. My son, oh lord! After a week of applications of the cream Aaron and I are sitting on the porch, when James steps out, and announces in his loudest voice: “MOM! I need some butt cream”. I swear. Last night we were walking with our neighbors, and James proceeded to tell Michelle that he needs butt cream if the “middle part” (this is what he calls his butt crack) itches, and it’s his mom’s business. I never knew I was such the entrepreneur. Keeping this in mind, last Monday our family went for a swim at my in-laws. I thought I would spit in the face of skin cancer and get my self a nice tan. I tanned, and then reddened. A few days ago, I began to molt. I was standing in my bedroom, picking at my flaying flesh like an obsessive-compulsive leper, when James walks in. The poor boy is aghast. He recovered with the adroitness of an ER intern, and promptly told me that I needed some butt cream.
In the scientific world, there is a well-known phrase that every action spawns a reaction. In parenting terms this would be referred to as action leads to consequence and fall-out. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the McDonald’s Happy Meal as much as any parent. But, unfortunately these blessed free-time-in-a-box gifts are often accompanied by a non-degradable plastic piece of nastiness. Recently this has taken the form of various Ice Age characters. James (he of the butt cream) had acquired a talking Manny figurine. This sucker will make a noise if you sneeze in its vicinity. It is so insidiously annoying that the dog wouldn’t even eat it (ohh and yes, I gave him ample opportunity) Yesterday, I took advantage of the nice weather (kids, James included, were out playing), and wedged Manny in the trash can while no one was looking. Hours later, we return from grocery shopping, and hubby proceeds to take out the trash. He gets about half-way to the door when Manny spouts off one of his three platitudes. I couldn’t see what happened from there, but I could hear it. James, face crumpled and lips trembling asks Aaron: “Are you throwing my toy away?” My husband turns to our child and says: “Nope, mommy is”. That my friends, is how it feels under the bus.