At least that's how it feels. Apparently I have delicious skin. Mmmm. Yummm. A couple mornings ago, it was cool enough to go outside and play in the yard. It was shaded. The kids were having a blast. And then I felt a bit itchy on my calf. A minute or so later, I looked at my hand and caught a mosquito biting me. I got rid of it, but not before it bit me, dangit.
The kids didn't seem bothered, so I went inside and used bug repellent wipes and went on my merry way. I smelled like summer camp (apparently I used bug spray a lot at camp growing up) the rest of the day, but the bugs left me alone.
The next morning, I opted not to venture into the yard, leaving my parents and my friend to contend with the four kids on their own. I stood on the screened-in back porch and waved to them. . .
Apparently my absence led to a new victim. Poor Marcie. I don't think they are mosquito bites because she's not really scratching, but she has maybe half a dozen on her legs and arms. And one on her face. Right to the side of her eye. I know not to use Deet on them, and I know Cutter is supposed to be safer for kids. But instead, I'm opting to keep them out of the grass and woodsy areas for the rest of our trip (which is only a couple more days).
I'm just chalking this up to one more good reason to live in Southern California . . .