you’re strange, World. Very strange.

Patricija is 5.
Yesterday I noticed her examining her belly, where her navel proudly sits in the center.

She studies it. Tilts her head. Quiet, but from her little sighs you can understand:

“On such a round, beautiful belly there’s this… hole. Doesn’t really fit the perfect whole, you know.”

Finally, she rolls the question out like a little ball:

“Mom, what’s it for?”

I explain that when a tiny baby lives in its mom’s belly, it can’t come to the table to eat.
So the mom feeds her baby through the “belly button,” which connects them like a kind of cord.

Silence. She tries to remember something.

“But then, why do kids and dads have belly buttons? They don’t grow anything in their bellies.”

I explain that both dads and kids were once grown in moms’ bellies.

Silence again.

“So… are you saying I ate through your belly button when I was in your belly?”

I nod.

“When I ate… did you finish it all?” Her eyes widen.

I can’t help but laugh.

Without a word, she grabs my shirt and looks at my belly.
“Through such a small one?” She frowns, and I can already imagine her little brain picturing a scene where mom, after eating one and a half meat patty, cuts the rest into tiny pieces and feeds them through the belly button.

Weird, world.
Very weird.
Sometimes, you seem strange to my 35-year-old eyes.
But to a 5-year-old, you’re high-level aviation.

Sweet dreams next to many question-asking little professors,
V.

#ohdear #childhooddeals