There it is. That scent that every mom knows and loves. Really. They do. A mom would be crazy not to, right?
With eager anticipation, I pick up my bundle of joy and freshness and do my stair master walk to the changing table.
Attic baby babbles to me in her secret language and smiles.
I wonder if this gives her some sort of satisfaction. Or if she's just happy that I figured out the source of her unhappiness.
We converse, she and I.
"So...is it pebbly? Soft and squishy? A lot or a little? Brown, green, or in between?"
She responds with "Ba Da Da Da" and a round of raspberries.
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