Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Smelling Of Milk And Tears
The other night Per came downstairs after putting William up to bed and casually asked "Do you think you can throw his sleeping bag in the laundry tomorrow because it kind of smells." Being an excellent conversationalist and seeing definite potential in this topic, I politely inquired, "What does it smell like?" "Umm, it smelled like milk. And tears."
I sat stunned, in horrified, guilty silence. It must have been the saddest statement I ever heard! To think that my sweet little baby boy had been crying so much at night that his little sleeping bag smelt of tears! I mean, honestly, how many tears does one have to cry until something reeks of them?! How awful, no, how heartless a person must one be to allow a tiny child to pass their nights in a tear scented sleeping bag?! Monster! For days I felt guilty and because of this brought the topic up whenever I possibly could, desperately trying to attain closure...
In the car a few days later while shaking my head unable to get such Dickinson imagry out of my head, still racked with remorse: "So...did it really smell like tears? I mean, what do tears smell like anyway? (Ever hopeful that the scent of tears had in fact been something else.) Like did it smell like salt?! Is that how you knew it was the smell of tears? I mean, does salt even smell? Let's check when we get home!"
Anyway, the days have passed and my guilt has lessened although I still feel a slight twinge or two when I consider the terrible pathos of a little angel falling asleep in something smelling of tears. In the futrue, I may well be compelled to do laundry more often. We'll see.