Belly Be Done

Many kids form attachments. Usually to something soft. Frequently something stuffed. They'll carry around a ratty bear or a filthy dog until stuffing is coming out of the seams and panicked parents have to find a replacement.

Doodles has an attachment. And yes, it is soft. And often stuffed. But it is, I'm afraid, my belly button. He loves to stick his left index finger in his mouth and his right index finger in my belly button. He does this when he's upset. When he's tired. When he's bored. Pretty much all the time.

You laughed at me when I worried about it before, but it's still going on and I've decided it's time to wean my child from my belly button. Only it's not so easy. Sure, I could wear overalls 24-7, but I'm not a big fan of overalls; I simply have too small a bladder to manage them comfortably. I need a pair of grown-up onesies, but I grew out of my leotard phase when I was eight. Other than that, there's no good way to keep my child close, but my belly button out of reach. He's adept at untucking my shirts and just helping himself to a fingerful of belly.

And it's getting worse. Before he used to just come up and stick his finger in his belly (and let me tell you, that's incentive to keep his fingernails short; I've got plenty of scratch marks on my belly from when he was belly button hunting). But this past weekend he started something new. Now, as he's walking over to me, he wants me to prep for him. "Belly belly belly belly," he says as he walks over and lifts my shirt.

Tonight, we were snuggling in the armchair, watching a little Sesame Street together. "Belly belly," he said.

I pulled my shirt down and refused the finger. "The belly button is closed, sweetie," I said. "The belly button is closed for the night."

He looked at me with those big eyes and said, "Open."

How could I refuse? I think losing the belly button is going to be a considerably harder time than we had losing the bottle. Ugh.