baby powder bliss

Is it weird that I love the way my daughter smells?

She's sitting on my lap right now as I type, clenching a black metal-tip pen in her right fist, scribbling her artwork on random yellow post-it notes. She is singing a song, words known only to her, and every once and awhile she dips her head back into my chest, nuzzling me close.

I take in the scent of her freshly washed hair from last night's bath. The smell of baby lotion on her flawless skin. She still has a milk moustache from this morning's breakfast, and as she shifts in my lap, little puffs of baby powder scent rise and linger in my senses.

I love to gather her close to me as I try to memorize everything about her; the softness of her chubby cheeks, the enormous blue eyes that blink in tandem as she asks me 'why?', the chipped purple fingernail polish on her tiny fingernails and rows of tiny baby pearls that line her gums.

She is my daughter ~ one of a kind. In these moments that I long for time to stand still, I am grateful for who she is now, and excited to see who she will become.

Until then, I'll hold her close and take it all in.