For almost 11 years, I have been a “girl mom”. My “boy mom” years are much shorter, at just over six. I swear, there is something new to learn about these interesting little creatures every single day.
Most recently, his showers have gotten long. I’ve been patting myself on the back for having a 6-year old boy that has taken his bathing off my currently full plate. Foolish me.
Life has been unimaginably busy, challenging, exciting, and blurry lately as my weekly work hours have gone from 25 to over 50. You might have noticed my posting frequency has hit the skids. The idea of someone, anyone, taking anything off my plate is welcome with a capital “W”! I believed those showers were actually showers because I needed to.
One night, after Finn emerged from his non-green 30-minute cleaning session, I noticed a lack of that wonderful shower-fresh kid-smell. (Some necessary background, Finn also likes to wear clothes for several days in a row, including socks. Our December summer in Chicago has left him with some pretty stinky feet.) His “shower” did not work on those feet.
I leaned down and smelled his hair. No sign of Suave’s Cowabunga Coconut. So I asked, “Um, Finn? When you’re showering, you’re using soap, right?” He sort of nodded a weak, unbelievable yes.
“What about shampoo? You’re using shampoo, right?”
“Well, not this time,” he said, slightly annoyed at my audacity.
“Tomorrow night, Daddy will be giving you shower training. Be prepared.” I responded firmly. (Nice delegation, huh?) He shuffled away, mumbling opposing arguments. But he knew the jig was up. His 30 minutes of wet superheros in the shower play time was over.
The next night while I cleaned up dinner, Mike headed upstairs to instruct Finn on ALL the NECESSARY steps of showering. “Wash your arms, wash your legs, wash your FEET!” He sounded like a drill sergeant having too much fun.
Finn came down after in mismatched jammies, his glorious coconut smell proceeding him, and snuggled into the couch.
I jokingly asked Mike how it went and he said, “Great. I said, ‘wash your arms, wash your bottom, wash your balls!’ ”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, then he said he only knows two words for them, ‘balls and nuts’, so I told him that if he keeps showering well, I’ll teach him all the names.”
I’m all for bribery, but not for encouraging a testicle name savant. Even when they’re 41 I don’t have boys figured out. I think it may be time to accept the fact that I never will!