Smoke

Evie had a visit with her mom today.  She got three pre-made Easter baskets and an Easter bucket; and a dress from her grandmother.  I always sit down with her when she comes home to catalog everything she gets.  Everything smelled like smoke (it always does).   When I pulled the Easter grass out of the bucket to see what was at the bottom, the smell took my breath away, and I involuntarily made some sort of face.  Evie said, "What happened?"  I said, "Nothing... It just smells like smoke."  I know I shouldn't have said that; it just came out.  So then she smelled it and said, "Yeah, ewww, it smells like smoke."  I told her I thought it was just the grass and that we would throw the grass away.  Then before she went to bed, I had her try on the dress to make sure it fit before I took the tags off and washed it.  When she put it on, she said, "This smells like smoke, too." 

At this point, I'm kind of glad she is not talking to her mom every night because I'm sure that Evie would make some comment like "The stuff you gave me smelled like smoke" the next time she talked to her.  Hopefully, by the next conversation they have, Evie will have forgotten about that. 

I do not like the fact that everything that comes in the house reeks of smoke.  But the saddest thing is thinking, as I'm putting the dress into the laundry, "This is what Evie would go to school smelling like if she is with her mom."