I think I’ve mentioned before that teenage boys stink. The stench that wafts into the house when John has friends over is almost unbearable. Some of them just smell like boy, which is gross. But others, smell like rotten flesh.

I’m not kidding. It’s disgusting.

I think it has to do with nature. Mom’s are biologically predisposed to spoiling their sons. We never want them to stop being the little boys who will cuddle and love us unconditionally. We have a near-instant dislike to any girls that try to steal their hearts.

That is, until they start to smell. John smells so bad sometimes that I mentally count off the days until he moves out. His soccer shoes and bag are not allowed in the car, they have to ride in the trunk. The bathroom he and Taryn use gets so gross that I just pour bleach in the sink, toilet, and tub and just leave it sit for an hour. I’d rather breathe in bleach than his stench.

Once they stink, we mom’s are more than ready to pawn them off on an unsuspecting roommate or significant other.

It’s the natural order of things.

Also the natural odor.

Tonight at dinner Jackson figured out when the stench problem begins.

Jackson: I don’t love John. I only love Sissy.

Me: Yes, you do. You love John.

Jackson: No, I don’t because he stinks. He’s a boy and he stinks.

Me: You’re a boy. Do you stink.

Jackson: No, I’m widdle.

Me: Little boys don’t stink?

Jackson: No, only big boys stink. Widdle boys don’t stink.

Me: When do you start to stink? What age?

Jackson: I don’t know. SIX!

Me: So, next year you’re going to start to stink?

Jackson: Yes. Yes…CAN SOMEBODY TICKLE ME!!?!?!

Now you know. Feel free to send me bottles of bleach and Lysol as a thank you.