The Sweetest Compliment
I walked into my bedroom one evening, preoccupied with the usual “big people” concerns. A strong fragrance hit the olfactory nerves and registered in my brain as an overpowering scent of … my favorite perfume? Pervading the room?
“Oh no,” was my initial reaction. One of the kids must have dropped my perfume bottle. How did they get ahold of it?
I was ready to blow up at someone once I found the guilty party.
“Where’s my perfume bottle?” I began looking around for shards of glass or a big puddle of liquid. I couldn’t find anything, though.
I walked to the bathroom to take a look there. There, in one piece (albeit at a much lower level) was my perfume bottle.
My son came running up to me. “Doesn’t it smell nice, Mommy?”
“What did you do?” I asked, peering at the tiny amount of liquid in the glass bottle.
“I wanted it to smell nice,” he said simply, “like you.”
I smiled and gave him a kiss. Of course, he also smelled like an overwhelming amount of the perfume that he had apparently sprayed throughout the whole house.
I felt guilty that my automatic reaction was irritation and disappointment, when in reality, my son’s motives were simple and sweet.
My perfume bottle might not last nearly as long as it otherwise would have, but I don’t mind. I couldn’t think of a more sincere compliment from my son than wanting the house to “smell nice … like you.”
Maybe I’ll wear that fragrance more often.