Last year my son went to 5th grade camp. One of the items stressed to be brought was deodorant. As the 28 year old, creepy Camp Director explained,
“Cause there’s nothing like 50 ripe smelling boys in the middle of the day,” he giggled, making all the moms uncomfortable at the thought of sending their sons with this man for 72 hours.
Up until today I really haven’t smelled my son’s BO…too often. Really, I could count it on one hand. Sure, him and his brother fall on the floor in a meltdown when you request they take a shower. Or, they can’t possibly fathom my demand that they will be taking a shower EVERYDAY come summer. I know, I’m such a terrible mother.
So every so often I would attempt to keep the deodorant dream alive with hints like,
“Hey, I packed some deodorant for you for your overnight with grammy.”
“I’ll give you $5 if you wear deodorant.”
Tonight after soccer practice, P got in the car and suddenly a new odor began to envelope my surroundings. It smelled of gym socks and pine and mildew. I pondered how to effectively get the point across about this growing BO problem.
‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘He isn’t taking my hints seriously and this is for his own good.’
With the calmness of a pilot explaining to the passengers our flight time, I said, “P, I’m gonna need you to get in the shower when we get home as you really do stink.”
There, I said it and he took offense.
“Geeze mom, talk about being blunt. Uh, maybe I stink cause I just finished practice?”
“And I get that but dude, start using deodorant.” I was breathing through my mouth while talking and doing this was proving to be difficult.
Had I not been blunt there would have been a whine fest and not the good kind of wine fest that I like. He would have taken his smelly little ass and plopped right down on the sofa rattling off 50 reasons why not to shower.
So there, that’s my story on how my child prefers to smell like a bum that pissed himself, living under a bridge. Go hygiene!