My prepubescent son came home the other night reeking of Axe. I am very happy that he hasn’t entered “the puberty zone” with all those raging hormones. I am dreading his first love interest. But, I am ready for it as I plan to trot out all the naked baby pictures I’ve taken of him to show her. Embarrassing your kid is one of the joys of parenting.
So, he comes home reeking of Axe. He spent the day with his friend, A, and this kid fits into the category of “the proverbial bad influence” so we can be sure that something bad will happen. The last time they were together they went to a movie that started at 7pm and didn’t finish until 9:15pm but my kid failed to share this important information with us. He is not one for turning anything off EXCEPT when you don’t want him to. The only time he will turn off the light is if I am sitting in a room doing something that requires light. In he comes to scare the crap out of me by sneaking up behind me, and then after he has accomplished his mission of giving his old mom a heart attack, he will leave the room AND TURN OFF THE LIGHT! He actually turned off his cell phone at the movie theater, which they tell you to do. So, now he is in “radio silence” and there is no way to reach him WHICH IS EXACTLY THE REASON I AM PAYING AN ARM AND A LEG FOR A CELL PHONE FOR HIM! After repeated calls and texts to his cell phone, to A’s cell phone and conversations with A’s mother, and just as I am about to call the police and report him missing, he breaks “radio silence” and calls. Of course, he doesn’t understand what all the broohaha is about.
So, he comes home reeking of Axe. I don’t know about you, but I cannot stand Axe. It is so strong and sickeningly sweet and you just can’t get that smell out of your nose, not to mention the fact that I have a ridiculously sensitive sense of smell, so it gives me a god awful headache within seconds of smelling that crap. As soon as he enters the house, that smell sucker punches me and I start shrieking for him to take off all his clothes which he does. I pick them up, trying to touch them as little as possible, like they were worn by someone with Ebola and I hang them on our front porch railing.
Here’s the punch line of this story. A couple of days later, at some ungodly hour of the afternoon, I open the door of his room in order to drag him out of bed…he’s a teenager and he likes to sleep all day, if possible. My delicate sense of smell is assailed by the most horrible smell as I announce “your room smells like armpit.” His reply… “at least it doesn’t smell like Axe!”
Is your teenage son or daughter a slob or a neatnik? Please leave comments about your child so that I won’t feel so sorry for myself.
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