“Mommy!” Georgia wailed as she made her way back from the dense, dappled forest. “You didn’t put enough sunscreen on me and my arm got a sunburn!”

It’s not true, I did slather her with sunscreen, she was under tree cover, and her arms were just red from running around in the heat. I did not neglect her UVA/UVB protection needs. But Georgia is worried about getting a sunburn, and she is diligent about her sunscreen use.

Life used to be so easy. If I needed sunscreen I’d go to the store and buy the cheapest brand, use it for three years and then repeat as necessary. Now that it’s not just my skin I’m saving I read the ingredients, and I pay attention to the latest dangers. Then I get frustrated and confused and want to curl up like a potato bug and block out this hazardous world.

I don’t think the body care industry is trying to kill kids with terrible poisons, but I also don’t trust that kids’ health is their main concern when they have things like shelf life and fragrance stability to worry about. And some of those ingredients don’t seem to have a very good health record, though I’m sure they do a fantastic job of keeping our sunscreen smooth and free of mold. But how much damage can tiny amounts of bad ingredients do anyway? If the Environmental Working Group is right, I am spreading absorbable toxins on my child’s largest organ, her skin. Since the body care industry is completely unregulated, it’s up to parents and watchdog groups to make a big stink over anything that gets a little too scary. But the story changes, and when even vitamin C has neurotoxicity concerns and aloe vera gel is listed under Developmental/Reproductive Toxicity, I have to stop driving myself crazy.

Last year I bought some Aubrey Organics stuff that claims it is ideal for children. It blocks both UVA and UVB rays, it’s got some organic ingredients, some green tea, and a Skin Deep rating of 3 (which means it’s pretty safe ingredient wise). But my family hates it. I presume it’s because there are no stabilizers that it separates into yellowish microparticles and slimy oil, and you have to shake it vigorously for it to find its Zen place and become one again. Hova and I find excuses not to put it on, but Georgia will sit through the application. It ends up all over her clothes and sticks her hair together like plaster. And we all end up with a strange yellow pallor. Blech.

So I went back to the sunscreen aisle – not the one with the less expensive products with more worrisome ingredients, but the one with the organic buzzwords and the pleasing color schemes – and I picked up Alba Botanica’s mineral sunscreen for kids, on sale. It goes on smoothly, it rubs in well. We look a bit like a family of Goths with our pale faces, but it’s not bad. It has a lot of ingredients that I can’t read, but also gets a 3 rating in the Skin Deep database. But 27% of the sunscreens listed are considered safer. So I printed out their top ten list so that when I go to the store I can rummage around in the bottom of my purse, among leftover fruit leather bits and gum wrappers and try to decipher dissolved ink to find out which one I should get next.

One thing is certain, whatever sunscreen I choose, the possibility of Georgia getting skin cancer from not wearing sunscreen is higher than the danger of her getting 1,4 Dioxane into her system, so even if I don’t have the safest sunscreen I will still put it on her. When she’s peering into the mirror at 35, I’m sure I’ll be blamed for her first wrinkle. But she won’t have to blame me for skin cancer, because I am diligent, and so is she.