"Smell my face."
That's an odd command anytime, but when it comes from an 8 year old boy there is extra cause for concern. I'd just picked up my boys from my mom's house when T the oldest made that very statement.
Needless to say I declined, but he insisted. "Come on Dad. Just smell my face."
"Why?" "Because Meme bought me some man detergent at Wal-Mart."
"Man detergent," he said with a bit of extra bravado to his voice.
"What is man detergent?" I asked.
Now before I go on let me say that T has always been a bit girl crazy. He got in trouble numerous times in preschool for kissing one particular school. When I told him he couldn't kiss girls at school he said it was okay because she wanted him to. Then in Kindergarten he got in trouble again for kissing this time a first grader. Once again I lit into him about kissing girls particularly at school. His answer. We went out in the field so we weren't really at school. Over the years we have gotten his lips under control but he has proposed to three different girls all at least 8 years older than him.
Yes I fear what will happen once puberty really strikes, but back to my question of what man detergent is.
"You know Dad. Like perfume for boys. The stuff that smells good. Meme bought me some and it's going to drive the girls WILD. Now please smell my face."
I wish you could have heard the excitement in his voice when he uttered the word wild.
"It's called cologne not man detergent," I explained. "And you can't wear it to school when it starts."
At this point he dug in a Wal-Mart bag and produced a bottle of Gillette After Shave Lotion for Sensitive Skin.
I hid my smile. Here T thought he had Love Potion #9, when in actually he had little more than liquid deodorant. But at 8 that was about all he needed so I said, "Okay let me smell."
He proudly jutted out his chin.
"Yep, I said. "That will drive them wild alright."
At this point my youngest, Z, who is 6 chimed in. "Let me smell."
Now Z would rather eat worm dirt than get caught so much as talking to a girl. He's also a world-class trash talker who spends a lot of free time attacking his older brother with both verbal and physical barbs.
Z took one whiff, leaned back and said, "Now your face smells like Dad's armpits."
Somehow, I kept from laughing out loud.