The Life of Riley

And now, in the interest of fair play (because you know I absolutely LIVE to torture--I mean immortalize in print--each of my beloved sons equally) it's time for Tales of Riley. We'll start with a conversation, since after all, the boy does love to talk (and talk...and talk. Like his mother, who probably picked it up from her own mother, he keeps up a running commentary even when no one else is listening. My mom always used to say that it was fine to chat with yourself; it was when you started answering that you had a problem. I myself prefer to label it "thinking out loud"--makes it sound much healthier!) Now, where was I? Oh yes, Riley and I were at the kitchen counter, discussing the potential dinner menu at Chez WestEnders (That gives the proceedings such an elevated tone, as if I were actually going to cook something fancy...hahahaha!). I mentioned the ever-popular Easy Mac as a side-dish choice, and he predictably replied, "I like mac-and-cheese!" "Well, who doesn't?" I flippantly remarked. Of course you recognize this as a standard Rhetorical Question, but Riley never met an inquiry he didn't consider worthy of his full attention and response. Without missing a beat, he said decisively, "Vegans!" Um...yes...you're utterly, technically right, sweetie. He then thoughtfully asked, "What's a vegan, anyway?" I dutifully launched into an explanation of those who opt not to consume foods derived from animals in any form, such as milk and butter (his face started to reflect disbelief), eggs (his surprise grew), or cheese (full-blown astonishment). He regarded me with an open mouth for a moment, then sputtered, "That's just LAME!" I choked back a laugh, then did the requisite little speech on "respecting other peoples' choices, recognizing the environmental impact of our diet, not calling those who eat differently from us by rude names, blah, blah, blah". And I poured a glass of milk, boiled a hotdog, and nuked the Easy Mac for my youngest omnivore.

Our next topic is somewhat more...delicate. With the warmer weather having (finally, hallelujah!) arrived, and with both boys being outdoorsy-run-around-sporty types, we have entered what I like to call "Daily Shower Season" (with the subtitle: "Make Sure You Use Soap AND Shampoo!). You may recall that Derek has had his own deodorant stick for a while (Tom's of Maine, unscented, for the record. This will become relevant shortly, you'll see). I don't feel it necessary to do a sniff test to check if he's using it, because so far he just doesn't seem to smell too much (thank goodness!). You can guess where this is going, yes? After the Saturday morning soccer games last weekend, both boys showered, as we had a party to attend later in the afternoon. In between engagements, Riley seized a few minutes of his free time to go outside and test his new, high-bouncing "Sky Ball" toy he'd gotten at one of the myriad birthday parties he's been to this month. I swear he was only out there for 10 minutes, but it was during that bout of miserably hot, humid, disgusting weather we had recently. When he came inside, he stood next to me to look at the newspaper section I was reading...and a certain...aroma...wafted up to assault my sensitive nose. I would describe it as a cross between a gym sneaker and a damp dog. Awesome! My not-quite-8-year-old has a personal odor problem! I marched him upstairs, directed him to change his shirt, and powdered his pits (which he protested vigorously, but I managed to convince him that smelling like a clean baby's butt was very appealing to others. I did not specify WHAT others). When I informed him that we would be getting him his very own deodorant, he was excited and ecstatic. He immediately insisted, "I want the lavender kind!" (Um, no, really, you don't want to go to school smelling like a flower!) Undeterred, he amended, "Okay, but I at least want something scented!" I assured him we'd find him something...manly...which he found completely hilarious. (I don't even know what that means, either...smells like Power Tools? Grilled steak? What?) The next day we stood in Roots Market, deliberating in the deodorant aisle. Of course we had to open each cryptically-named selection, give it a snort, then discuss our impressions--the employees must have LOVED us. (But after all, nobody really can predict what "Fresh Rain" means until they try it out, right? It could smell like mud puddles and worms, for all we know!) At last we tested Mountain Spring, which in my opinion was "light but pleasant", and was acceptable to Riley as well. He proudly took his purchase home and smeared some right away on his little pits (after a short tutorial as to the boundaries of application--all the way down to the elbows and ribs? Not necessary.)

And off we went to our next social engagement, all de-stinkified and ready to face the world! I hope that's the last personal product we have to deal with for a while...I'm SOOO not ready for shaving cream...