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 ….