Having a kid later in life stirs stuff up for This Old Mom. Smells, sensations and long-buried memories, designed to be forgotten once outgrown, bubble to the surface—like our very first loves. Grace’s first love is her lovey. It’s just a blue chenille square cloth with ribbon tabs and lots of stinky stains, but it’s Grace’s Rosebud. It’s her twitch, her compass, her happy place….