Worms

My kids are a little belly button obsessed this week. They always point them out whenever they are shirtless or bathing.

Today Isaac crawled up in my lap. He asked to see my belly button. If it were anyone else I would be telling a chump to put their dukes up, but for my baby boy, I obliged his weird, yet innocent request.

Bear in mind, my stomach has seen happier days. Flatter days. Days when it wasn't marred by the evidence of two very indulgent pregnancies.

Isaac pointed out my belly button and then touched one of my stretch marks and asked me what it was.

If I were answering honestly, I would have said something along the lines of him and his punk sister ruining my belly and preventing me from ever wearing a two piece again. But I didn't answer honestly.

I told him they were love marks from when he and Hope lived in my tummy as babies. Maybe it was kind of honest. Having those two is worth having a ruined body. I'd not trade a thing.

But Isaac promptly disagreed, telling me matter of factly, "No, I think they're worms."

What do you even say to that?

I just tickled him and laughed and silently vowed never to eat chocolate again.

That vow lasted about 10 minutes.

Judge if you must. But someone has to feed the worms......