A few days ago, Isabelle gave Ari a whiff and declared, “He smells like a baby.”
Naturally, I thought he pooped. After several sniffs, I determined he hadn’t. In fact, I sniffed him all over and determined he smelled fine.
“If he has a smell, it’s a perfectly normal smell for a baby,” I declared while channeling my inner Pigeon (from The Pigeon Needs a Bath).
“Well,” Isabelle muttered as if it were an insult, “I still think he smells like a baby.”
This evening, after Ari’s bottle, I held him close on my chest and sang to him like I do every night. I breathed in his baby smell. Not his baby-baby smell, which was when he always smelled like spit-up and Alimentum formula that seemed to waft out of his pores. Instead, he smelled like a light baby shampoo with a touch of whole milk. I breathed in his scent again. This time, I realized that by this time next year, he may not even be taking nighttime bottles. While that probably means a more normal bedtime routine — and more time for my own endeavors — I will miss these nightly snuggles with my sweet-smelling baby.