You know how moms like to discourage undesirable behavior by making it sound like a really bad idea? Well, that's kinda how this whole 'moldy pits' thing began.
As all the kiddos were in the bath this morning, Gavin began to lament about how he has to always take a bath. Which I knew would soon lead to a 'what if' question. Right on cue he asks, "Mom, what if I never took a bath?". Oh how I love hypothetical questions. So, I decide to give a hypothetical answer. Mind you, I have zero medical background knowledge to draw from here; so I let my imagination run wild.
I go on to explain to my wet, spell-bound audience of 3, that if you were to choose not to bathe, then you would probably grow mold in your pits (otherwise known to most as the underarm area). They were aghast. My plan is working. I knew multitudes of questions were forming in Gavin's mind, so I just waited. "What is mold?", Gavin asks. He knew it must not be something good, but he wasn't quite sure how truly yucky it is. I inform him that mold is green and gross and grows where it is dark and damp and stinky. I think I have just driven my point home. Since they are so awe struck with mommy's knowledge of moldy pits, I decide to wrap up my dissertation with, "...and if you had moldy, stinky pits none of your friends would probably want to play with you.".
There, I think I have totally curtailed any notion of never taking a bath again. On the other hand, I also probably just created an obsessive compulsive monster with Gavin. Now my poor, conscientious child will probably scrub his pits raw the rest of his life to avoid the moldy pit syndrome that his over zealous mother informed him about during his most formative years.
I actually had forgotten about our earlier hypothetical scenarios from this morning's bath time. That is, until we were having a lovely time playing 'doctor' on the floor after lunch. Mommy was the patient and the boys were the doctors. Bennett was armed with an infant medicine dispenser (empty, of course), while Gavin's doctor tool of choice was an extra computer mouse we had laying around. At first he would stick it in my belly button and try to blow me up (typical 6 year old boy stuff). Then, out of nowhere, he lifts my arm, inserts the end of the mouse into my 'pit area' and tells me he's checking to make sure I don't have moldy pits. Thankfully, I passed the test.
