She’s no longer a baby, this little sprite of mine. How do I know? Is it the sentences strung haphazardly together, the tantrums that blow our world wide open, the running and jumping and the picking out of her own artfully put together outfits? All good indicators, but the dead giveaway? The puppy smell.
I just cuddled the munchkin to sleep for her naptime after a frolic in the yard, and her sweaty little person had that gamey smell of dog – the one all children seem to effuse when they’ve been playing hard. Never before had she smelled this way, no matter how hot she was or how hard she played. So she’s there – childhood. No more baby. No more sweet powdery smell all times of the day and night. And I’m sad.
But at least this is better than the smells that come with puberty, so I’ll be thankful for that.