Dear Jack,
I picked you up from the sitter's today and you smelled wrong.
They say mothers and newborns can identify each other by smell alone and I think they're right.
When I picked you up today, you smelled like the sitter. It wasn't a bad smell. In fact, it was a smell that told me that she spent a lot of time holding you today.
But you didn't smell like my baby.
I was in a wretched mood all evening until your father finally pieced it all together and pointed out that I could bathe you. And then snuggle with you myself. Making you smell like me again.
Isn't it funny to realize that as far as we've come, there is still something so very primal in us all?
Love,
Mom
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I know the smell that you're talking about. Donnie often commented on it after I picked the kids up when they were younger.
ReplyDeleteI love that your husband could smell it. Mine believed me, but in that way that he also believes me when I say I need a new pair of shoes.
ReplyDeletePip stays home with me, but I confess to acting all cat-like and cozing him extra after his baths. I'm all, "California Baby soap?! No! He must smell like Momma [and Poppa]." Just realized that that's why I sometimes weird Andrew out by plopping the child in between us in bed sometimes.
ReplyDeleteI love that you found a way to set it all straight. Do you think Jack will be a water baby owing to all those baths? If so, what a cool coming-home ritual!
I'm glad you have such a practical husband for such reminders.
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