Last night as I tucked my son in bed, I smooched him and sniffed his hair. I told him he smells like a corn field at harvest, which I tell him all the time because it's true. He said, "You just like it because I smell like home."
He really does smell like home to me. I grew up on a farm, surrounded by fields of corn and soybeans. I know that smell of harvest like it's my childhood in a bottle. I don't know why his hair smells like that, but it does and always has.
My daughter smells like baby kittens. I don't know if it's the milky smell of a nursing toddler or just her natural scent, but I sure hope it doesn't disappear when she weans. Because baby kittens also feature prominently in my childhood and the smell of them brings me a huge amount of joy and peace.
I wonder what my husband thinks the kids smell like. Maybe to him they smell like something different, but something that calls him back to childhood too. It could be the magic of children, to smell like home, no matter their scent.
All I know is that now when I go visit at harvest, and when I hold the baby kittens on the farm in spring, I will be thinking of my children.