Stink, Stank, Stunk

It was super-de-duper hot in Chapel this past Sunday.
Like "Africa hot."
The hour of Sunday School was torture. My knee pits were dripping.
It was hot enough for me to feel the need to go to the bathroom and spray a little body spray. I didn't really sense a deodorant failure occurring; I was just paranoid. And hot. And have I mentioned hot?

When I got back to my seat, the boy made a nasty gagging face, pinched his nose, and scooted 4 feet down the pew away from me.

"What's the matter with you?" I whispered in that shouty little whisper that you use when you can't yell.

"You stink," he said.

"I just sprayed perfume!" I said.

"I know, and it's too strong!" he shout-whispered back.
(For the record, I am not a perfume fanatic. I like light scents, and I know how he feels about overpowering smells.)

So I asked, "What are you going to do one day when the pretty little girl you adore is wearing perfume? Are you gonna gag and tell her she stinks?"

"NO!" he shout-whispered. "Her perfume will smell good; not like...
old-lady perfume."

Well then.

I can't wait to buy his first real girlfriend a gift. A pretty little bottle of perfume.
Exactly like mine.
(Bwwwwaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaaa.)