Sugar and spice, alright, part 2

Wednesday night, Audrey and I opted to wait inside the dojo for Ryan to finish his aikido class.   We usually wait outside, as she likes to run around, have a soda or smoothie, or we go to the library; but it was quite brisk that night and she wasn't wearing a jacket.  (I say "brisk" because if I say "cold" those of you who have to dig your way out of the snow to exit your houses will throw something at me.)

She squirmed in her seat, ants in her pants; I shushed her as someone was testing for their next level and didn't want to be disrespectful; to have to leave due to her antics.  It was warm in there, and that is preferable to freezing my ass off.

About ten minutes into it, she wound up in my lap.  At five, she's not always a comfortable snuggle in a plastic chair, but I held on to her, thinking she just might nod off.

Yeah.  Thaaat's realistic.

The squirming continued in my lap.  She'd sit still, settle, shift.  Sit still, settle, shift. 

I was wearing a zip up hoodie with a camisole underneath.  Her shift, shift maneuver was coming dangerously close to exposing anyone near me to a dose of ta-ige but she was in my lap so I figured we were safe.  I knew if I hiked my cami back up, I'd look like those women who constantly readjust the top of their strapless dress, and that is not pretty.

All of a sudden, she leaned back, looked a little embarassed, and hiked it up for me.   I tried to look nonplussed, like, this happens all the time, when my knee-jerk reaction was telling me to jump straight up and yell "Stop that!"  Admittedly, this was a far cry from when she used to pull my shirt down or up to get to food, glorious food; but I still felt like I was being groped by an overenthusiastic teenager.

I kept looking over her head at the test like nothing was up.  Kinda like when you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk, but keep on walking like nothing ever happened.

She snuggled into me again, and I sighed, approaching the hissing-in-her-ear point.   As she burrowed her face into the upper part of my chest, just over the top of my readjusted garment, she murmured, "I love to smell your skin."   "What?"  I asked her, not sure I heard her right. (And simultaneously wondering, if only her Dad would say that.  :p)  "Nothing," she smiled sweetly, and put her head back down.  It brought to mind when all the kids were younger, and as I held them, they'd always put their little hands on that same patch of skin, Mommy-the-human-blankie.  I'd forgotten.

It also reminded me of the smell, the baby smell; that top-of-their-head goodness in the middle of the night.  How you could burrow your face into them anywhere and know that it was the greatest smell on earth.

This morning, I got up early with her.  She came and sat in my lap, snuggling on the couch, and we were watching "Max and Ruby."  I leaned my head down to smell her hair...and immediately wished I hadn't, because in an instant, I realized that the soury, off smell I attributed to morning breath was really emanating from her.  entire.  body.

Eau-de-trucker, not so pleasant on a five year old.

So much for rainbows and sunshine, the bubble bath scented like cucumber-melon; I may have to fetch the Lava.

And a hose.