I would like to take this late summer opportunity to thank the manufacturers of this bath product. It has been instrumental in this developmental phase that causes them to postpone personal hygiene or do away with it altogether. It's not really a disdain for showers as much as that they simply don't see the need.
I'm reading this book on prayer and in it, the author points out that the developmental stages put forth by psychology (like the terrible twos or teen angst) have become rules, tying the parent's hands. Rather than directing or intervening with these stages, they feel powerless to help or change their child while the child is going through these things. So, while Manny is perched at the top step, sullen with his head in his hands refusing to shower, I am praying for help. I don't want him to feel gross and dirty (I actually still adore his smells.) But I am trying to set a clear expectation for what he must do. Benicio is less with the smells and more with the day's residue: a drool track across the cheek in the morning, burrito juice slidden down the back of his hand from lunch.
Like my mother, I work a lot of things out while shopping. In the soap aisle at Target, I was drawn to what looked like a Transformer robot. But it was not a Transformer-- it was body wash. And it was called Axe. It was perfect in its maleness. The bottle was shades of gray and black. The typeface looked like it was Back to the Future. Even the way you squeeze it out is-- well, let's just say that the product-designers know their demographic. And the particular scent I chose was sport-scent.
And so, I was trying to be subtle about making baths and showers our friend. So, I got a faux tortoise-shell bath brush with soft bristles for Manny. And Benici got a mesh shower pouf but instead of being an orb shape, I found one that was this long braid. And instead of strategically placing it in the bathroom (which has not yet worked with the deodorant), I packed these things for our vacations. So when we were camping at what we affectionately call "Occupy Delaware Seashore," the boys were sandy and filmed over with camping-sheen, I sent them to the bath house with their new stuff. And like so many things these days, with them there are no squeals of giddy gratitude or surprise. (This is good for a gratitude-addict like me.)
However, when we were on our recent beach trip, Geoff had come back from a long run and was having a peaceful shower. He was interrupted by Benicio's urging voice at the door. Geoff opened the door and was surprised to find Benicio handing him the Axe through the curtain, "Daddy, you gotta try this!"
