Hubby and I had an awkward moment last night. And unfortunately it lasted almost an hour. Here's what happened.
Our son started a weekly "intro to athletics" type of class at our local sports center. Each week they try out a different sport or two, and we're hoping this will lead to him taking a real interest in something specific. He tried and didn't like football, tried and didn't like karate, and we almost lost him last night when the coach tried to teach him how to correctly kick a soccer ball. Apparently my son has inherited my gift of being born knowing everything, and doesn't need to learn anything new. Are you happy now, Mom?
When I arrived from work, we walked down to where his group was playing soccer, and when we reached the 'parent holding area,' this...smell...blindsided us. I thought it was the room off to the left, where perhaps there could be a locker filled with old sweaty clothes, but I couldn't narrow it down. And frankly I didn't want to. The smell was definitely B.O., and it was pungent. Hubby and I finally went back down the hall to get away a little, but then our son came out all upset, and we had to go back and work on him to rejoin the group. He eventually did, and that was when we realized the cause of the offense. It was one of the MOMS. She was there with what we thought was her little daughter, but turned out to be her son, who has longer braids than my daughter has ever had. He was signed up to be a Little Ninja, but was busy changing his three year old mind about it, and she was chasing him around and threatening him with the loss of a new Indiana Jones video game if he didn't get started. Every time she blew past, we were nearly knocked unconscious by the odor. Even now, sitting at my desk, I feel a little disturbed by the memory.
Finally, the blessed end of the class came, and we were on our way out of the gym. She was near the entrance as we were exiting, so we held our breath and ran past. We're now dreading next week's class, knowing that she may be there with her darling Little Ninja. Because I suspect this was not a one time deal for her. She either has an ailment that doesn't allow for deodorant, or she's just one of those people that does not get it. How does that happen, anyway? I know I am vigilant about how I smell, which by the way, is usually like vanilla. Hug me and you'll smell sugar cookies. Who isn't hugging her and telling her the truth?
After we got home, Hubby happened to walk past me, and I suddenly noticed he smelled like Polo. I called him on it, and he sheepishly said he needed to smell something good for a while. We laughed, hugged and enjoyed the aroma.