“I need underarm,” Master11 informed us.
No he didn’t.
“I just bought you some,” I reminded him. “Like a week ago.”
“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “I need more.”
“You know people shouldn’t be able to smell you before they see you,” his mother said. “Each spray can isn’t a daily dose.”
The trouble, it seemed, wasn’t he’d run out but rather he wanted more variety. Naturally, we said no. But then he started to offer to do extra chores around the house. I’d pay a lot of money to not have to shovel the dog poo off the balcony. Certainly one can of deodorant falls into that budget.
“Two cans,” insisted Master11.
Whatever it takes.
“I’ll take you tomorrow so you can choose them,” I said.
“I want Mum to take me,” said Master11. He grinned unashamedly. “I want something the girls like.”
In the end I took him anyway. It was that or he had to wait until we ran out of milk for breakfast. Tracey doesn’t like changing out of her pjs to leave the house, whereas I sleep in a tee and shorts so no one knows I go shopping in my bedclothes.
To make up for my clearly having, in his and his mother’s eyes, no idea what girls like, we randomly chose three scented sprays.
“You can have two and I’ll have the other one,” I told him. We based on their sexy names – Excite, Apollo and Anarchy. “You can pick the two you want when we get home.”
Naturally, the girls decided to help him.
They liked the first two a lot, but their faces went a bit contorted when he gave the third can a quick spray.
“That one smells like rotten plant,” complained Miss12.
Can you guess which one I got?
“That’s an improvement on you, Dad,” Master11 grinned.
I’m hoping the issue was more the three combined scents outside the can than the odour within.
Meanwhile, he might go through these cans as quick as the last because I figure at least I won’t be the one potentially smelling of dog shit.
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Raising a family on little more than laughs.