“Mommy, I smell something.”
He says this as he’s nestled into me for the first grader’s goodbye-and-have-a-great-day hug.
“What do you smell?”
I ask the lingering question, knowing I prefer honesty from my son rather than dishonesty from someone else.
“Is it good? Is it a good smell?”
Sweet smile. “Yes, Mommy. It’s you.”
Well, that’s good. Because it could have gone either way, for a minute there.