A Peachy Keen Morning

I had a good time before going to work yesterday morning.  After a satisfying workout where I actually ran (in two 5 minute sessions) and walked quickly while watching a video – a duration and intensity of workout not done by me in nearly 8 months, I showered and prepared for work.

Five year old Hal interrupted me in the act of putting on my socks and shoes for a rousing and humorous hug-a-thon, complete with his little body throwing me repeatedly down on the bed, tight neck hugs, a fun time of head-sitting, me tickling or booty pinching in return, raucous laughter, failed attempts to put on footwear while prone and encumbered, and… joyously sniffing of my shirt.

Yes, Hal delighted in how I smelled.  Well, specifically, he said, how my shirt smelled.  He paused at one point in the antics to sniff my back deliberately and intently.  He told me my shirt smelled good and when I asked him what it smelled like, trying in my mind to imagine how he would describe either the laundry detergent or my deodorant, he said, “Cherries!”

So there you go.  I smelled like cherries yesterday.  He reaffirmed that perception when I came home from work.  Of course, he also referred to the peach he had with dinner as a cherry – he does that often.  So maybe I’m actually a peach?

According to dictionary.com, the fourth and final definition of peach is:

Informal. a person or thing that is especially attractive, liked, or enjoyed.

I’ll take it.  He’s quite the peach of my eye as well.

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