A Flawed Understanding

I like to maintain that the reason I remain overweight is a service to my children, who like to rest their tiny little heads on Momma’s soft belly.  I was once told by my now nine-year-old niece that I make a better pillow than her own Mommy, so I guess I have that going for me. 

Last night, my two-year-old daughter was resting her sleepy head on my stomach when she asked, “Mommy, did I live in your belly?”

I most certainly did not expect my two-year-old to already have questions about the reproductive process, but I answered her none the less, “Yes you did, honey.  You lived in Mommy’s belly once.”

“Isaac too?” she then asked sweetly.  Yes, I confirmed, her younger brother had also lived inside Mommy’s belly.

“Can I go back in?” she asked.  I’m not precisely sure how such a process would happen, but I am certain it’s not a procedure I wish to explore the possibility of. 

“No, silly girl,” I told my daughter, who was smiling and giggling at me, “You’re too big now.”

“Oh, okay, I too big now,” she said, and gave me a hug before placing her hands on my belly and asking, “Well, what in there now?”

I’ve been mistaken as pregnant before, and it is never a fun occurrence.  This was just an innocent question and I’m sure she didn’t mean to imply anything, but I was still offended.  Apparently my stomach looked some kind of storage locker to my young daughter.

“Nothing,” I explained, “nothing’s in Mommy’s belly right now.” 

“Yeah, there’s something,” she disagreed with me.  “There’s a Jeep in your belly!”

A Jeep in my belly? What the fuck?  I’m overweight, it’s true, but I sure as hell hope it doesn’t look like I can transport fucking automobiles around in my muffin top.  Also, should I be concerned about the mental health of my daughter?  Do I need to contact some services? A Jeep in my belly?!?

I disguised these thoughts from my daughter, and then joked, “Well, won’t your Grandpa be so very happy to know I can now birth Jeeps.”  He often spends hours looking at Jeeps and SUVs on Craigslist, and now he needn’t spend the money as apparently he could expect a new off road vehicle in about three to nine months (my daughter didn’t clarify an expected due date, so I was unsure if I was in my first or third trimester).

“Yay! A Jeep!” she exclaimed, and bounced up and down on the bed.  “Let’s call Grandpa!” 

I did her bidding then and dialed the phone.  When my father picked up, she said, in her little pip-squeak voice, which can often be hard to understand over the phone, “Hi Grandpa! Momma got a Jeep in her belly!” 

“What? Huh?” he replied.

When I translated, and then explained the nature of her bizarre phone call, he said, “Hmmm. Okay. Well, you two are weirdoes.  See you later.” 

In addition to being a little weirdo, as so cited by her grandfather, I do believe my daughter also has a rather flawed understanding of human physiology.

As for me, I must now consider a name for my expectant Jeep.  I’m assuming that Jeeps are male by nature, so I’m considering Michael.  Any other suggestions for a boy’s name?  And, if you birth it yourself, do you think it’s moral to then sell your newborn automobile?  I could really use the money.  Hmmmm ….