“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.

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