Preadolescence and Chili

Ah, preadolescence; a time when the world is perfect, you're immortal, and you feel as if you could accomplish anything. Apparently, though, this time in one's life, just prior to adolescence, is also the time when such things as body odor are discovered.

After a hard day playing outside in 95-degree heat, my son walked into the house, lifted his arm into the air and took a whiff.

"Smells like chili," he announced.

My stomach lurched.

"It's time to get him some deodorant," I told my husband.

But you know, even after taking him to the grocery store and letting him pick out his own deodorant (he chose Axe), he still has trouble remembering to put the stuff on.

"Do you want to be known as the stinky kid?" I asked him one day, thinking that scaring him into remembering deodorant might work. ('Cause let's face it; we all knew a stinky kid when we were in school. Hopefully, you weren't that kid, but for virtually every class, there's at least one stinky kid.) My son shook his head.

"Well then," I told him, "you can't forget to put deodorant on."

My little sister did something similar to my son when she got to be about nine or 10 years old. She came in after a hard day of playing outdoors and announced that her armpits smelled something akin to chicken noodle soup.

I have never looked at chicken noodle soup the same since.

As a parent, I knew this time was coming. And as my son continues to approach adolescence and actually enters it full on, I know his voice will change, that he'll have to shave, that he'll develop an interest in the opposite sex... I just can't figure out, though, why it is so difficult to understand that deodorant is a necessary thing. He walked into the house the other day talking, once again, about how he smelled like chili.

"Did you remember to put your deodorant on today?" I asked.

"I forgot," he said.

Looks like chili's on the menu again.