Oh, the smell of boys when the ground thaws--it's almost ethereal. It's the smell of sweat and dirt and cool air, traces of syrup and shampoo and soap, hints of earthworms and snow, baby wipes and spit. It's the cleaning of faces and hands in a futile attempt to keep the sheets clean when they finally crash. It's the tears of exhaustion when they know it's time to come in. It's them when they are winded, running, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.
It's one of the most magical scents in the world. Come on and show your face, Spring. The Waldens are ready.
(I'm breathing it all in today. The boys have been playing for hours. It's sixty-one degrees and sunny. The windows are open and I'm scrubbing walls and windows and floors. It's an excellent day.)
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