My two year old smells like his daddy’s aftershave (he got into it AGAIN!), fruit snacks and play dough.
My baby smells like yogurt and that smell that can only be called “baby smell”.
Baby smell is such an amazing gift. You can’t find it anywhere except for on an actual baby.
All morning long, I have been wiping noses. The living room is covered in legos and matchbox cars. I had to rescue the youngest from a head-wacking, crazed, two year old with a plastic toy monkey wrench.
I’m still in my pajamas, and my baby sneezed on me when I was in the middle of feeding him breakfast, so I’m pretty sure I’m covered in a fine mist of snot and pureed bananas. I’m exhausted and it isn’t noon yet. I have broken my cardinal parenting rule and allowed my son to watch TV after designated TV time. My coffee is cold.
I am the possessor of children and all the gross, down in the dirt, exhausting stuff that goes with it, but I get to smell the cologne of childhood.
The yogurt-fied baby smell perfume of a baby that is still my baby.
The aftershave/play dough/ fruit snacks scent of a baby who is starting to become a boy.
It’s worth it.