(I promise that this blog won’t become an endless appreciation of my brood, but I have to mention them sometimes.)
My babies smell like “mine”. It’s a really hard thing to describe. When I smell my kids, there’s this strong feeling deep inside of me that spreads through to my fingers and toes. It’s warm, gooey and sometimes overwhelming. They are unmistakably mine. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced and, frankly, I’m addicted to it.
Coming a close second is my addiction to kid sounds. Beatrice’s breathy babble. Alexandra-Joy’s laughing without inhibition when I tickle her.
These are beautiful and special because it never ceases to amaze me that they are part-me and part-Daddy. When I’m feeling down, a kiss and whiff of beautiful baby smell and all is right in the world. They are by far the best “production” I will ever do.