Horrified Teen 2 when I told him I sniffed the air in the morning to tell if he was up. Teen 1 was delighted by my acknowledgement of his brother’s pungency and for a while we all collapsed, torn up with laughter at my parental betrayal. To Teen 1’s disappointment, I then explained that it wasn’t Teen 2 I was trying to smell, but the All’s Well aroma from his toast.
From early days we navigate our children by their smells. Whether it’s getting as close as you dare to check nappy needs, or snuggling into the Johnson’s Baby aroma of the freshly bathed, we know all their smells and what they mean.
It doesn’t change with teenagers. Filling a car with adolescent boys at the end of the school day is a windows down experience. After sports is even worse. I try to be subtle and at least I don’t take the roof off like one of my friends. Her boys think it’s cool and don’t realise it’s because they stink.
Back at home I still learn from their smells. The faint tang of shampoo on the landing, means Teen 2 has finally found the shower; a late afternoon attack of Lynx tells me Teen 1 is going out; and a heavy mouthful of breath is a missed teeth clean.
Still the boys don’t have to wait for kitchen smells to know what I’m doing. As I burn the rice – again – the smoke alarm grasses me up.
Homework, Guilt and Costa Coffee 