I reported to Scott that I would not be picking up Max from Lacrosse practice in the evenings… if I could help it…in the future…ever again.
Cassie: I can’t handle the smell in the car. And he knows I’m struggling to breathe, and still, he insists on keeping the windows closed so his muscles don’t lock up from the cold. And he lifts his arms a lot for no reason so that I get hit with the body odor as much as possible during the ride home. He does it on purpose. I know he does. I see him smirking. I’m not picking up that big lug of teenage body odor again. I swear. Nope.
Scott: It’s so hard living with your nose, isn’t it?
Cassie: But Scott, how do you stand it? When you pick him up from practice? I mean, it’s just brutal.
Scott: As soon as he gets in the car, I start breathing through my mouth. Simple.
Cassie: That doesn’t really work for me because I think my nose is so ultra powerful that many of the super nasal smell detectors are in my throat too. I can smell from my throat. I can. That’s the problem….
Scott: I love you. I do. But Cass, you are so weird. You know that, right?
Cassie: I know. I’m just warning you I’m not doing any more pick-ups for BO Boy. And the lacrosse bag? Forget it! You’ve gotta make sure the boy cleans that thing out. I can’t even imagine how bad it smells, how my throat might convulse with one whiff. I’m serious —
Scott: I’ll handle it.
Cassie: Thanks, honey. I love you.
Scott: I know.
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