That Baby Smell

 The other day, Willow and I were out for a walk, and a crazy lady stopped us to comment on That Baby Smell, and how wonderful it is.  I heartily agreed, as I rave about Willow’s smell every chance I get.  Dave tells me that one day, years from now, I’ll be holding someone’s baby, and the smell will hit me, and it’ll just knock me out.

But I don’t know…before I had Willow, I was certainly familiar with That Baby Smell.  I have long been a fan of that squishy, milky, cute little smell.  But the thing is, Willow doesn’t smell like that. 

Do our own individual babies have specific smells?  I’m sure cats would say so about their kittens, but the human nose isn’t really up to that sort of thing, generally.  I did read that babies can smell their mother out of a lineup, but I never heard that mothers could do the same.

But the fact of the matter is that no baby I’ve ever smelled has smelled like Willow.  Her neck smells like a summer day at the beach—a bit of sunscreen, a bit of greenery, a bit of salt.  And her breath…I don’t even know how to describe it.  It smells like heaven.  Like the sweetest perfume, fragrant and warm and flowery. 

Sadly, I can’t always smell it—I’m around her so much that I get desensitized.  But sometimes I’ll be cooking or something, and I’ll go to scoop her up, and I feel drunk with it.

I’m sure I sound like a crazy lady.  Do we think she smells like that because those are my favorite smells?  What do your babies smell like?

Frankly, I think it’s tragic.  You can take a picture, you can take a video, but you can’t bottle the scent, and no baby will ever smell the same.