I gave Tommy a hug good night and got a whiff of his hair.
It was not pleasant.
It smelled like old cheese. Dirty feet. And what I would imagine Lindsay Lohan’s breath would smell like.
It was not good.
“Tommy,” I began politely. He tends to get offended easily so I had to broach this carefully. “When was the last time you washed your hair?”
He’s ten, so his hygiene isn’t always the best. He started to get BO at 9 so he has to wear deoderant—something that he’ll forget to do at times. I’m grateful that he bathes every day. But he cannot forget his hair and pits.
“Uh? Last week?” Tommy responded, staring at his iPod Touch.
“It…stinks,” I admitted. “You should probably wash it every few days. You wouldn’t want the ladies to be like ‘yuck, Tommy smells like an old gym sock’ would you?”
Tommy blinked at me.
“You know, the ladies? The, uh...” I petered out, unsure of what to say next.
“I’ll wash my hair,” Tommy vowed. He was probably hoping I’d leave.
“Actually lather it in,” I said. One time I watched as he slapped some shampoo in his hair and immediately washed it out without even scrubbing it in.
“I will.” The annoyance was beginning to seep into his voice.
“It’s just important to smell nice,” I explained. “But not too nice. Some of the boys in your class need to learn that they do not need to spray the entire bottle of Axe on them. Women still need the ability to BREATHE, you know?” I chuckled and Tommy didn’t join in.
“Um, well, okay. Nice talk,” I said, backing away.
It’s tough when the kids get older. I can still wash my five-year-old daughter’s hair so she still smells like grapes and strawberries or whatever soap and shampoo she likes that week.
But my boy? Yeah. Let’s hope that he understands the importance of not smelling like the kind of cheese that smells like dirty diapers.