What Love Smells Like

It seems that my children inherited my sense of smell. They smell every little thing, even the things that only I used to be able to smell. I finally have some camaraderie in my "What is that smell?!" weirdness.

When they smell stinky things, you know it.

When they smell something yummy, you know that, too.

Luke thinks it's funny to tell us we smell like garbage can or poopy diapers. He can barely get the words out without collapsing into giggles.

When I wear perfume or body spray, they line up in my closet to get sprayed, too. Even at the end of the day, when we are snuggling on the couch, if Luke smells my perfume he pipes up with, "I want spray, too."

They have both loved having their toes sniffed. Smelling Luke's piggies has always been a sure way to halt a tantrum before it gets out of control and change shrieks into laughter.

Smell my piggies!

My favorite weird thing I share with them is the way we love to smell each other.

Grandmother brought them to eat lunch with me a couple of weeks ago, and as I was telling them goodbye in the back of the van, I sniffed both of their necks respectively and said, "You smell like Ella" and "You smell like Luke." And they both yelled, "I want to smell you!" I leaned in so each of them could smell my neck and they told me in turn, "You smell like Mommy."

I love it when they tell me I smell like Mommy. It's like another way to say, "I love you."

When I stepped out of the van, Grandmother asked me, "Did he just say he wanted to smell you?" I said yes. She thought that was so weird. I tried to explain that it's a thing we do, even Dave does it.

Maybe it is weird, but we know what love smells like.

And, it doesn't always smell like poop.