Scratch and Sniff

There are no pictures to go with this story--you will appreciate that as you read on.

I have a nose like a bloodhound. This is both a blessing and a curse, mostly a curse. Many women have an acute olfactory gift when they are pregnant. No, I am not pregnant. I have this sense all the time. My parents have employed me to "sniff out what smells bad" in their refrigerator. I can find a baby bottle inadvertently (or not) shoved under a bed. Here's my latest:

Last week, I was putting on my coat in the kitchen, preparing to leave for work. I caught a whiff of...vomit. Casually, I announce, "I think Amelia has puked in her bed." Peter looks quizzically at me. "She's still asleep up there." I nod. "Yep, but I smell puke. And that vent up there goes right to her room." He trots upstairs and comes back down with Amelia, who is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no vomit to be found on her person. He looks at me, astounded. (I am a little disappointed, not because she didn't puke--that would be a good thing!--but because I think my sense of smell failed.) Peter says, "You are a freak." Huh? "There is a little tiny spot of vomit this big on her blanket. The room doesn't even smell like puke. You are a freak."