‘Hey, Chels—’ Mum said. ‘Smell my armpits.’

I had just made myself a big stack of pancakes and was about to enjoy the first bite when Mum came downstairs and stuck her armpit in my face. Her hair was in a big messy bun right on top of her head, which meant only one thing: she’d been doing yoga.

I pushed my plate away.

My little sisters stopped what they were doing. Rosie covered her mouth with her hand. Elodie’s eyebrows went up. Dad put down his phone and left the kitchen in a hurry. I thought I could hear him snorting with laughter in the lounge room.

With her arm raised and her armpit in my face, Mum went on. ‘I’m trying out one of those new all-natural deodorants,’ she said.

Rosie tightened her grip on her little mouth, adding her other hand on top so she could simultaneously pinch her nostrils shut in sympathy, even though she was on the other side of the room. Elodie’s eyes got even wider and then squinted until they were almost closed. Her mouth turned into an upside-down smile of disgust.

Beneath the pit, I sank lower in my seat, defeated.

‘Which one smells better?’ asked Mum, her armpit looming even closer.

Slowly, already filling with regret, I took a whiff.

B L E R G H!!!

Then, as she raised her other arm, I dutifully moved my nose across to the other death pit.

D O U B L E   B L E R G H!!!

‘That one!’ I gasped, pointing to the first pit with one hand and clutching my throat with the other.

‘That’s right!’ cried Mum triumphantly. ‘That’s the one I put it on! It does work!’

Speechless, I just sat on my dining chair, panting and gasping for air. Mum bounced happily back upstairs. ‘Thanks, Chels!’ she called.

I stared at my pancakes, my appetite long gone, and managed to croak out a reply.

‘… no sweat.’