What do I smell like?

Some mornings on the short drive to school, we sit in silence, the kids and me.  Other days, it's all business.  Today, we got the giggles and couldn't stop.  As I drove up to the school, I was dripping in giggle tears.

My son was cleaning his glasses as we drove, and when he sprayed the cleaning spray, he said "This smells like Grandma Sweet Pea."  I smelled it, and it did.  It had the same fruity/fresh scent that mom has.  I don't know if it's perfume or shampoo or what.  But it's pleasant.

Then I said, "It's funny how people have a scent."

My daughter piped up and said "Daddy smells like coffee and scones." He totally does.  He manages a Starbucks, and it permeates his skin.  His clothes.  His hair.  His shoes.  I want to eat him.

We giggled.  She said "I smell like strawberries."  It's true.  Maybe it's the red hair.

My son said, "What do I smell like?"

I said, without skipping a beat "Maple Syrup" at the same time my daughter said "Waffles!"

Mind you, he doesn't eat waffles or syrup every day.  Rarely, in fact.  But since he was born, every person who sniffed in his youth had the same reaction.  Maple syrup.  It's the oddest thing ever.

"HURTFUL" he said, but with a grin. "So I'm syrup.  Elena is strawberries and daddy is coffee.  We're a balanced breakfast."

"What about me?  What do I smell like?"

They just looked at me blankly, then at each other and giggled, so hard they snorted.  I have no idea why. Could they not think of an answer?  Do I not have a scent?  But whatever it was, it made them happy to think of it.  It made me happy to see them giggling and starting their day happy.  They both hugged me and instead of saying their names, I said "Bye, Syrup" and "Bye, Strawberry" and watched them walk away giggling.

Throughout the morning, I've found myself picturing their giggles, and I giggle again myself.

That's how you start a day.