Smell my finger!

It didn't happen exactly that way, but I figure people will relate to the title, and the actual events are pretty close. For the past 10 days, I was essentially a bachelor. Mrs. LittleBillJr went out to help take care of our four young grandsons while our son-in-law was out of town. Thursday I drove out to rescue her from the small horde of small people. But it was not a swoop in and leave thing, as I spent a couple of days visiting myself. And that is where the smelling came in. 

Anyone who who has raised boys, or who has been a boy, knows there will be smells. Some of them are best left undiscussed, not dwelt upon. But some can't be avoided. And some are thrust right into your face - over, and over, and over - with glee. 

Small boys and personal hygiene are sometimes like oil and water. They just aren't going to blend. But that doesn't stop those of us who have been mostly domesticated from trying. One of my own personal crusades with these particular little monsters is the washing of hands. I think part of that comes from my own mother and her efforts. Mom was an old school nurse. Every time I washed my hands, it was like I was prepping to operate on someone, and if I didn't, I'd better have a good reason why. Some of that rubbed off, so to speak. 

On a a regular basis, we would send them off en masses or individually to "wash up". With the exception of the one year old, they are all old enough to do their own scrubbing. They are also old enough to have earned degrees in the art of the technicality, even though the oldest is a mere slip of a lad of seven years. By a couple of chance covert observations, I had determined that hand washing often consisted of a good three seconds of turning the water on, passing one's hands under it once as rapidly as possible, and turning the water back off. Soap wasn't in it, and in many instances, the dirt didn't even get damp. But in their minds, hands were washed and ready for serious things like stuffing food in mouths. So I developed a ritual. 

"Did you wash wash your hands?"

"Yes!"

"Did you use soap?"

At this point, after a look of guilt washed across a face, the interrogee would often vanish so fast into the bathroom again you could hear the air rushing into the space left behind.  

We would start again.  When I got to the question about soap, and received an affirmative answer, I would ask to "smell" their hands.  At first this worked well, and I developed a smug sense of accomplishment.  In short order I had trained the little dirt devils to really do it right the first time.  And this is where things went wrong.

At some point they all decided it would be a GREAT idea to have Papaw inspect their hands using his olfactory senses, regardless of whether he asked or not.  The battle cry quickly became, "Papaw, smell my hand!", coupled with a tiny mitt thrust into my face.  I had to hang onto said mitt with my own, just to avoid contact with my own nose or worse - lips!  And at the same time, I also had to make eye contact, in an attempt to ascertain just how honest they were being.  

On several occasions, a glint in the eyes and a lack of soap smell proved they were BLUFFING me!  And they howled with laughter when they were caught.  It became a game.  Then when Grandma or Mom sent them off, they still came to me, thrusting hands and demanding the smelling thereof.  It did not matter what I was doing.  I could be eating; drinking; reading; conversing with another adult - a child would appear, an arm would be thrust into my face, and "Papaw, smell my hand!" Shouted out, accompanied with giggles or outright laughter.  

I suppose I did not help matters with occasional reactions of exaggerated disgust.  And sometimes it wasn't exaggerated - or feigned.  But a new game has been created from one that has been time honored among boys of all ages.  I can only hope they will tire of it soon.

All I can do is LOL.  We nurses are determined to have people wash properly.

I always said I wished I'd had a little boy.  Now I'm glad I didn't.  :O

We had three girls.  People used to ask me if I had wished for a boy or boys.  I said, "No way!  If I had boys, they's all be like me, and require daily beatings just to keep them in line!"  

Girls were their own challenge of course.  When they all hit puberty, it was constant PMS around here.  I called it sympathetic detonation.  One would start, followed by the next by the next.  Just about the time the last one finished, the first one would start again.  

I absolutely love your grand kids!

Thank you!  Me too.  They are great story fodder, if nothing else.  And of course, they are lots else.  

I've got a little boy and whoooeeee there are definitely smells.  He is currently in the 'can't-aim-properly' phase and I'm convinced my downstairs bathroom is going to be a den of nastiness no matter how much bleach I employ 

According to my daughter, there are "duels" in the bathroom.  She makes them clean it themselves under adult supervision.  

He's not quite to the cleaning-up-after-himself point....I'm making progress on the 'always wash your hands' front though (he's 5).  He trolls me though...."mommy I'm going to go pee and NOT wash my hands" 

I am a stickler for properly washed hands. I taught my kiddos how to wash from a very young age, and they were always really good about it. ( and still are...whew! ) 

When my oldest was 7, he decided he wanted to start using the men's restroom. I agreed, reluctantly, and off he went. I stood  outside the bathroom and waited. And I waited. A man had entered the bathroom after my son, so I was on high alert. I was starting to get scared and was about to sound the alarm when the man walks out of the bathroom looking extremely grumpy. My son followed a few seconds later-looking rather pleased with himself. 

I asked him if he was okay and asked him what took so long, and did the man bother him?? 

He explained to me that the man had "pottied" and was walking toward the door and had not washed his hands. Apparently, my son had told him he really needed to wash them-and watched him to make sure he was doing it correctly. 

I've got 3 boys, and a daughter-all teens or adults now. The boys may have been ahead in the smell department, but my daughter was hands-down the messiest. It's sooo much easier to clean the bathroom with just two kids, even teen aged boys, using the bathroom. 

We had all girls, but even so, I am glad to be an empty nester now. They might have been neater, but I no longer have 47 bottles of various potions and soaps stuffed into the shower.