Lately I’ve been thinking about babies, a lot. Maybe it’s because my two youngest grandkids, Kaylin and Vivian, are hitting the one year mark and they’re emerging out of that fresh baby stage into toddlerhood. I’ll miss the fresh baby stage.
One of my favorite things ever is the smell of a baby’s head. It’s kind of like puppy breath, there’s a certain newness to it that stirs the maternal instincts. I’ve often wondered why it is women cuddle and sniff babies while men want to see how high they can throw them in the air. And when a couple announces they’re expecting, while everyone oohs and coos, notice the woman automatically puts her hand on her belly and smiles lovingly and the man struts a bit as to say, “Yep, look what I did,” so proud of himself.
I think God starts babies off smelling like they do so when they get to be in 6th grade and their hair smells like seeping hormones we’ll still feel protective and loving about them. By then, even if we hit a rough patch, we’re bonded.
When babies slobber, spit up and poo we wipe it off or wear it and go on. After the one year mark we shreek and change clothes. So much of what happens before the first birthday is cute then after 12 months in some odd way transforms into annoying. It’s similar to what happens after the honeymoon, charming becomes irritating.
So I’ll enjoy the last bit of the fresh baby stage. However what I’ve learned from the older grandkids is this honeymoon never ends.