The smell of a man...

These last couple of weeks of school are killer, so I'm gonna cheat today and link to an older post. But.. it's one that I wanted to link to anyway, just because it cracks me up and I'm glad I wrote it down! Head on over to Rachel's home at Once Upon a Miracle for more true stories!


Oh my. Yesterday, when I got the Sunday paper, I noticed that it was in one of those double wrapped bags that usually means that more than just the newspaper is in there. Sometimes, it's a box of cereal, sometimes a tiny tube of toothpaste. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, it's one of those really tasty cereal bars, and it happens RIGHT when I need a snack. But yesterday, it was shampoo and hair wax. Not conditioner, or gel... WAX. I got back in the van (we'd just come back from church, and I was all ready to settle in with that great study sheet that my teacher had given us), when the bug hunter said "What's that?" He is all about stuff; especially FREE stuff. It's even better if the stuff is old and useless to anyone but him. Still, this was stuff that had practically fallen from the sky, and his "stuff" radar was at full scan. I opened the bag and looked at it. "It's MAN stuff", I told him. Oh. Well then. It was now the property of Bug Hunter, end of story. I gave it to him, and he smelled it. Didn't take the tops off; just smelled the bottles. "Oooohh, Mom, this stuff smells gooood; here, smell". So I did, but I took the tops off first. He practically came over the van seat to get a whiff of all the man-ness essence wafting from the bottles. "Mmmmmm... that smells REALLY goood". And then? He promptly forgot about it when we went in the house and he got distracted by some other stuff.  Because he is, after all, a man, albeit a short one.
Fast-forward to tonight, when he was getting ready to shower before bedtime. "Mom, where's my stuff?" he asked. "What stuff?" I replied, because heaven knows there's enough stuff around here to choke a bull elephant. "My man stuff.. you know, for my hair." Oh. THAT stuff. Found it, gave it to him, and then explained how MUCH of the stuff he needed to shampoo his hair (because up til now, he's been using this pump shampoo that smells like Carmen Miranda's headdress, and it pumps out exactly the right amount of foam for his hair). So then, he shampoos, and as I'm trying to get some clothes folded, I hear "Moooommm... come heeeerreee!" I have visions of some terrible shower accident, blood, broken glass, stitches. I rush back and open the door, only to see him wrapped in a towel and grinning foolishly. "Smell my hair, Mom. I smell like a MAN! We HAVE to get a big bottle of this stuff; the girls are gonna love it!" Great. Then, he uses the hair wax and STYLES HIS HAIR. This is the child who will happily leave the house looking as if squirrels have made a nest in his hair overnight. Or at least, he would. Now? I'm not so sure. Before he fell asleep, he left me explicit instructions to wake him extra early in the morning so he can take a shower, using HIS STUFF. Just so he can smell and look like a man. Thank you, Gillette. I owe you one.