The Muenchies Five

The Muenchies Five

Monday, June 2, 2014

The Film

As parents of boys can attest, there is that point in a boy’s life where he will suddenly desire to smell like sandalwood and will begin spending more time styling his hair using expensive hair ‘product’ so that when he is done it inexplicably looks messier than when he started.  Further, you will generally smell him coming long before you actually see him and the cloud of scented products surrounding him like an aura. Something similar happens with girls, with the exception that instead of Old Spice or AXE it’s various noxious perfumes produced by Bath and Body Works with names like Be Enchanted and which smell enchantingly like a combination of Mr. Clean and multiple unidentified species of flowers.  

At this point, most girls also begin to frown upon the perfectly acceptable jeans from J.C. Penney that they once wore with no complaints and instead want jeans which come from those stores in the mall that parents usually avoid because they are staffed by annoying 20 year-olds and are extremely dim inside which makes it hard to read the price tags.  I don't know if this happens with boys.  The Boy hasn't begun asking for fancy non-J.C. Penney jeans yet, but I assume it’s only a matter of time.  It seems like just yesterday that I watched him ‘playing’ baseball, wearing his cup over the top of his baseball pants because he forgot to put it on while dressing for the game.  Now he’s styling his hair and cryptically telling me that there is a girl that he kind of likes, but he won’t say who it is and vehemently denies it being each and every guess that his sisters make as to the mystery girl’s name.    

When I picked The Boy up from the bus Friday, I noticed that he seemed awfully subdued for a kid who was about to embark on a sunny weekend full of opportunities to annoy his sisters.  “What’s up, buddy?” I inquired. He responded that he didn't want to talk about it, and then mere moments later he volunteered that he had watched ‘The Film’ in class that day.  I'll admit, I was stumped.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  Then it finally hit me.   The permission slip I signed a few weeks back.  THE film.  The puberty film. 

Back in my day, it was The Filmstrip.  It was the most horrifyingly embarrassing moment in my young life, or so I remember.  I mean, there we were, frolicking on the playground with not a care in the world, and then all of a sudden the boys got separated from the girls and then the teacher dimmed the lights and we watched a filmstrip wherein a little girl suddenly grows boobs and gets hair in new places and gets pimples and starts to stink a lot, and then you start to worry that you might stink too which is added to the already growing list of reasons you think no boy will like you, ever, and then they moved on to topics even more disturbing so that you finally felt as if you would not be able to look any of your fellow classmates in the eye ever again.  Then the teacher handed out boxes filled with various products for when you changed into that poor stinky girl in the filmstrip and sent you home, leaving your blissful innocence behind in a heap in the corner of the classroom. 

The Boy reiterated that he simply did not want to talk about it as it was the absolute worst day of his life.  He remained quiet for approximately four seconds, and then he opened up his backpack and out wafted a smell with which I have grown quite familiar over the last year.  “The only good part of the whole thing is that I got some Old Spice deodorant afterwards.  Most of the guys got Axe but I got the Old Spice.”  He then said that he and all the boys got a package from the school nurse.  I rolled down my window so I could breathe without asphyxiating and asked what was in the package.  He said that there was a “disturbing booklet” and some facial cleanser and thank God he didn't say there was a ‘balloon’ in there because I think I would have died on the spot.  I remained calm, however, and offered up that if he had any questions about anything that he could talk to me or please for the love of God his father, and then I proceeded to drive home.  


So now I only have one more child who hasn't seen The Film yet.  One more child who hasn't started requesting items from Bath and Body Works and still thinks that the store brand jeans I got her at Target are perfectly acceptable.  I find myself snuggling with that child maybe a little more than I did the other two, because I just don’t know if I’m ready for this yet.  I think I want her to stay just as she is, at least for a little while more.