My Son Smells like a Zoo

Can’t wait for The Boy to discover girls. He might also discover the restorative powers of soap and water too. I don’t know what the hell he does in the shower but it certainly isn’t washing. Last night, after he’d spent at least twenty minutes in the bathroom, I crept upstairs to hear if there was any scrubbing soapy type action going on. Listened at the door. He seemed to be acting out Die Hard, with loads of ‘kapow’ and gun noises and a pretty good American accent. It was quite impressive really. I wanted to congratulate him. I’ve been reading this good book on bringing up teenagers called ‘Whatever’ by Gil Hynes and Alison Baverstock. It emphasises the importance of being positive and PRAISE. Fair enough – I do realise I spend a lot of time behaving like Vinegar Tits in Prisoner Cell Block H, with the Boy. ‘Pick that up! Now please, not tomorrow . . Have you done this/that/homework/emptied the dishwasher’ blah blah.

As it was I could have told him how good his impersonation of Bruce Willis but then he’d have known I was listening at the door. And when he emerged from the shower, towels and water slopping everywhere, and I had a discreet sniff – he still smelled. Maybe his boy hormones are soap proof.

But then again I’ve read there’s a study going on in Newcastle. They argue that teenagers smell for a good biological reason. That teenage boys are repulsed by their mother’s smell, and teenage girls are turned off their dad’s smell. This is to prevent sex within the family. Apparently. Try telling that to Josef Fritzl.


Anyway, Husband says Boy hasn’t discovered girls yet. The other day when they were out, a pretty girl walked by and the Boy didn’t do that bloke head twirl thing where they have a quick peek at said girl’s arse.

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