Teenager & Rubbing Alcohol

Teenagers are weird.  That is a fact of life. Teenagers do things that defy explanation and deviate from the path of common sense.  

My 18 y/o son has an issue with germs - lets call him "J" to protect his fragile ego.  Combine the germ phobia with a raging case of clinical paranoia and we have nuttsville soup brewing  at our house on a daily basis.   "J" balances in that precarious space between teenager and adult, bordering the fringe of insanity.  You know the place...we all were there once.  Hopefully some less than others - but still the same.  Lately "J" has been asking a host of bizarre questions about hygiene and how to prevent B.O.

Last night we went to the local Target to pick up necessities.  "J"  requested the typical... toothbrush, shower gel, deodorant and  rubbing alcohol.   When I asked him why he needed rubbing alcohol he said he was going to use it on his face.

I thought nothing of it.  I spent many a hour in front of the mirror as a teenager swiping my face with an alcohol soaked cotton ball.

Rubbing alcohol.  No problem.  I bought him a couple packages of cotton balls too. 

Shortly after we arrived home laden with bags my son came flying down the stairs.

"Did you get the rubbing alcohol?"

He grabbed it out of the bag then went shooting up the stairs.  I looked at my husband and had that feeling.  You know the one...Mom-dar was pinging loudly.

Shortly after I heard the shower running.   All was well.

Or so I thought.

Minutes later the peace was shattered by a piercing scream, a decibel and frequency of which we rarely hear. The screams were followed by a crash, thud and finally silence.

The dogs were hiding under the table.  I looked at my husband.  He looked at me. 

I went running up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door.  All I could hear was the water running, slightly muffling the frantic whimpering coming from the other side.

"Are you okay?"

More whimpering...

"If you don't answer me I am going to open this door"

Whimpering...."NO DON'T!"

"What did you do?"

"I used the rubbing alcohol."

"On what?"  I asked, only to be answered by more pathetic whines.

Suddenly the picture became clear.

"Did you use the rubbing alcohol on your privates?" I asked. 

He never answered me.  The muffled crying answered my question.  I didn't ask him any more questions.  He provided no more answers.

That is a sensation I don't think he will soon forget. 

Rubbing Alcohol - 1
Teenager - 0

PS For those who may be worried about my son ever reading this post - don't, it wont happen.  He thinks mom's blog is 'retarded' and wouldnt be caught dead reading it.  He also does not have internet access - think of the damage if he had access to the internet unsupervised *shudder*