“Two bottles would be sufficient, then, wouldn’t you think?”
“No. The choice of two isn’t really much of a choice. When someone is given two options, the choice shifts from what you’d truly like versus what you know you don’t like.”
Ryan blinked rapidly and stared at me.
“Is this some of your psycho-babble?”
I laughed and took two bottles from his hand.
“What do you have there?” I gestured to his hand.
“Lilac,” he said and made a face.
“That’s not much of a choice, is it?”
When he shook his head, I handed him another bottle.
“Now what do you have?”
“Eucalyptus.”
“So, think for a moment. You’re not debating about what you really want to smell like; you’re debating about what youdon’twant to smell like. It’s hardly a choice of desire. If those were the only two bottles, no matter what, you wouldn’t select the one you don’t want to smell like.”
“I don’t want to smell like lilac, for sure.” Ryan unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. He quickly made a face of distaste and put the lid back on. “This smells like fart spray. Like, fart spray at a senior center. Like, the old ladies pour on the perfume because they think it’ll cover up their farts.” He held up the bottle. “That’s what this smells like, and I don’t want to smell like that.”
“Exactly, you know what you don’t want. So, no matter what the other bottle is, you’re going to select it. Which really isn’t a choice.”
“I don’t really want to smell like eucalyptus either.”
“Eucalyptus is very relaxing and is used in a lot of aromatherapy products.”
“It smells like old man farts,” he commented after he smelled the eucalyptus.
“Does everything smell like farts to you? As I said, eucalyptus can be very relaxing.”
“Just like my farts. I find my farts to be relaxing, and I’d rather smell like them than lilac, or old lady farts and eucalyptus old man farts.”
I handed him the third bottle.
“Now you have a choice. You know for sure what you don’t want,” I said and took the bottle of lilac scented bubble bath from his hands. “Now you can choose which of the two in your hand you’d prefer.”
“Peppermint or eucalyptus,” he said. He tossed me the eucalyptus bottle. “I’ll save the relaxing old man fart scent for you. I’m taking the peppermint.” Ryan unscrewed the cap, smelled it, and a smile appeared on his face. “I like this one.”
Ryan stepped toward the tub and began to pour the liquid near the faucet.He was pouring way too much in.
“Peppermint is also a good aromatherapy.” I started to tell him how it could ease frustration and anxiety, but I had a feeling that might set him off into denying he felt either of those things.
“It also smells like candy or gum.” Ryan barked out a laugh as he lowered into his massive mountain of bubbles. “I’ll smell like gum and candy canes,” he said as bubbles began to cling to the stubble on his face.
“I’d chew on you,” I playfully said as he swatted bubbles from his chin.
“Your mom will be all ‘heavens to Betsy, what smells like candy canes?’ And I’ll be all, ‘well, ma’am, that would be me. Your son is the one who smells like old man farts.’”
I laughed uncontrollably at his impression of my mother’s voice. My laughter made him smile.
“Where did you even hear ‘heavens to Betsy’?” I asked while I swiped the tears of laughter from my face.
“It’s an old saying. I don’t know where I heard it. Movies maybe. Maybe it’s a Midwest thing.” He looked down at his bath and then frowned. “There’s a lot of bubbles in here,” he announced.
