This morning I showered and dressed for work in the dark. As I sat on the edge of the bed putting on earrings and preparing to come and wake you, you wandered sleepily in.
"Good morning, baby," I whispered, and held my arms out to you. You lay Blue Blankey and Flamingo beside me on the bed and snuggled against my chest.
"Can I smell you?" you whispered, and buried your little nose into my collar bone, inhaling deeply. I had just put on my favorite peony lotion and we both love it. "You smell good," you breathed.
I hugged you again and stroked your hair, and in that early morning moment my heart was unexpectedly full. How well I remember loving the smell of my own mother. I can close my eyes now and remember how she smelled when I was a child, and the comfort and familiarity that I associated with that smell.
When I dropped you off at school, I bent down to hug you and kiss your cheek. I heard your little nose sniffing me again as your head was against my shoulder.
To know that my smell is comforting to you...somehow it makes me feel like a real mom.
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