I love the smell of my children. I wish I could inhale them whole, permanently burning their smell into my brain. I spend quite a lot of time around them kissing and hugging them just so I can breathe them in with deep sighs.
I want their sweet little boy smell to stay with me forever. But I grew up with two brothers and I know I am living on borrowed time. Boys get, well, a little stinky. With their stinky clothes and smelly feet and just, well, stinky, stinky, stinky.
I worry about this. I don't want to forget their little boy smell. I wish I could bottle up their scent to hold as a memory, to stay with me when I am old and grey. But without this assurance, I just keep kissing and hugging, breathing them in and hoping against hope, that I will always remember the aroma of my little boys.
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