Why Waste it on the Armpits?
Thing One started Middle School yesterday. Part of the excitement of Middle School is getting your first deodorant, because it is required for gym class. I don't remember needing deodorant when I was 11, but Thing One has been using it for a couple of months now. We picked out her very own stick of it when we were out together, just daughter and mom, to avoid any ridicule from Thing Two. And for the past two months, she has managed to keep it private from her little brother.
But at the grocery store last night, in front of Thing Two, Thing One announced that she would need another stick of it for gym class.
"Deodorant?" Thing Two looked at us with excitement. "Deodorant!"
I realized that this may become a sore spot very soon. It isn't that Thing Two is that persistent of a teaser, it's just that Thing One is exceptionally sensitive about anything to do with puberty.
"Yes." I answered matter-of-factly. "Yes -- deodorant. We need to pick some out for your sister. She is required to have it for gym class at Middle School. She has to keep it in her locker."
Thing Two's eyes grew with excitement. "Great," I thought. "Here it comes. We'll never hear the end of it." But I was wrong. Instead of ridicule, what came out was surprising.
"Can I have some, too? I want deodorant!" He was actually jumping up and down while holding on to the side of the cart.
My mind rushed through the possible outcomes. First scenario: if I didn't allow him to have his own deodorant, teasing would come just as a natural consequence of his older sister getting something he couldn't have. Second scenario: if I did allow him to have his own deodorant, well -- I didn't actually forsee anything; I figured he was asking just to ask. What could an 8 year old boy actually do with deodorant anyway?
Call me a fool.
"Yes. Of course you can have your own deodorant. Which one would you like?" I pointed to the aisle of deodorant and smiled.
"Oh boy! Oh boy!" He said this while jumping in a little circle and clapping his hands. And yes, Thing Two actually does talk like that. It may seem like an exaggeration or a bad attempt to write dialogue; but only until you meet him and have a little chat with him yourself.
His eyes scanned the aisle and he pointed to the biggest, most obnoxious aerosol can he could see.
"Okay, nothing that sprays. You should find a stick. They're much better." My mind could only imagine an aerosol spray in the hands of Thing Two. He knelt down and began the process of smelling each stick of deodorant.
By this time Thing One had made her selection (Teen Spirit -- the flowery scent; although I had attempted to point her towards the Tom's of Maine unscented) and was ready to go. She was looking at me as if I had made a very bad choice in allowing him to choose some deodorant. She is wise beyond her years.
Finally, after much deliberation, Thing Two chose the "Fresh Breeze" scent and was ready to go. He carried it, high above his head and marching, through the rest of the grocery store and to the register. As I was paying for my items, he sorted through the bags until he found the deodorant again and waved it around in the air so everyone could see. "I got deodorant! I got deodorant."
Thing One was wishing very badly that she wasn't associated with him. It was just now after 5:00 and the store was very busy. Luckily, most people were in such a hurry that they paid no attention to him and we made it out of the store and to the car with very little commotion.
At home he scampered off while I was putting away the groceries. Thing One discreetly took her stick of Teen Spirit and put it with her school items. I started dinner.
As I was measuring out the cous-cous, I caught a whiff of something quite fresh. Fresh and crisp. I turned to look and Thing Two was standing behind me, smiling ear to ear.
"I got deodorant. De-O-Dor-ANT!" He held the stick in his hand and the lid was off.
"Yep. You sure did. Glad you're so happy about it. Congratulations." I was wanting to finish dinner.
He sat down in a corner of the kitchen, clutching his deodorant like a junkie and smelling it.
"I'm not sure, but that might kill brain cells." I found great humor in this, but it didn't affect Thing Two at all. I think at this point he was already addicted. He lifted his shirt and swiped it a couple of more times under his armpits. He cocked his head to the side and looked at the stick. It was as if a light bulb lit up right over his head and in one swift move he lifted his leg and rubbed the stick under his knees.
Then in the little bend at his elbow.
Then his feet.
Chest.
Forehead.
"Okay! Stop! It is for your armpits! Please go put it away." He was beaming from ear to ear. I was surprised he didn't slip and fall as he stood up, considering the amount of deodorant that he had rubbed on his feet.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Until bed time. As I watched him brush his teeth, he was re-applying dedorant to his armpits. As I was sitting on Thing One's bed he snuck past her room hunched over his stick of deodorant as if I wouldn't notice. He was nervously glancing from side to side as he headed to his room, and I chose to just ignore it. Thing One and I laughed to each other about it.
Thing Two snuck the other way down the hall, back towards the bathroom. He was carrying his deodorant.
As he headed back to his room minutes later, I heard my better half say, "Put that back in your bathroom. It belongs in your bathroom. Not in your bedroom."
After we had said prayers to Thing One and tucked her in to bed, we headed to Thing Two's room and smelled something fresh and breezy wafting through the air.
"Wow. You found all sorts of new uses for your deodorant, didn't you?" I smiled at Thing Two as he was sitting in his bed.
"I tried it on my butt!" He smiled really big. He had to know that this was going to gross me out, so I didn't react at all. As he reached out to hug me I smelled it very strongly. "And my palms!"
My better half and I smiled weakly and tucked him in for prayers. We had been defeated. We knew that in our wildest dreams we couldn't imagine the places Thing Two tried his deodorant, and really -- we didn't want to know. It wouldn't surprise me if Rosie the pug ended up smelling like a fresh spring breeze eventually.
Someday soon it may be time for an intervention. But for now, I'll just breathe in, breathe out. And this time, when I breathe in, breathe out -- I'll probably catch the faintest whiff of deodorant lingering throughout the house.
9:23:45 AM 
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