Kids say the darndest things.
They say, for example, “What’s under your shirt?”
I stared confusedly at the little girl and she looked back up at me with big eyes and determination. She asked again. This time I shrugged. The third time she asked I was curious enough to try and figure out what she was talking about. I said, there is nothing under my shirt. She was more persistent than that. She pointed and demanded her answer. I flooled the short line of her finger to my belly and then it hit me.
“That’s my belly.”
“Oh.” and then a moment later, “Why is it so big?”
There is no good way to answer that, so I did what I assumed all embarrassed people would do in that situation. I grinned and pinched her cheeks and called her adorable. That bought me enough time and bashfulness to slip away into the gathering throng of kindergartners where I quickly collected my own and escaped what was fast becoming a socially awkward–and depressing–situation.
Some Thoughts:
- This blog is shorter than most because, as I found out, I cannot write in pain. I got something in my eye tonight and it wound up shutting down the eye completely. Now I’m a good hazmat rinse away from feeling better. This too shall pass.