Slushies have taken on a surprisingly critical role in my family’s summer. And it’s my 7-year-old’s fault.

The summer camp he attended sold them at the camp store. I resisted at first, telling him he didn’t need the sugar and neon chemicals used to concoct the icy blends. But like all spineless parents, enough nagging and I eventually relented, giving him permission to cool off with one small slushie once a day.

Then a 100 degree day hit. And while my son was off slurping his slushie at camp, I sat sweating in my home office. Suddenly, things seemed most unfair.