I’ve Got Your Bellybutton!

Let me ask the parents, what did you do with the bellybutton scab? Did you keep it like a treasure? Put it in a mason jar and wait to spring it on them for their 16th birthday? Bury it?

Charlie’s fell off today on our way to his checkup at the doctor’s office. I think they just threw it in the trash. Blood, scabs, poop, urine, spit-up. We live in a convalescent home.

His fleshy bellybutton, the last physical reminder of his tie to Kathleen, is red with a little blood. It looks painful but he doesn’t seem to mind. If I was him and I woke up seeing blood come out of my bellybutton I’d probably call an ambulance. Our doctor prescribed some antibiotic ointment and we’re hopeful that all should be well pretty soon. And he was so calm the whole time. He barely complained at all from the time we left the house to the time we arrived home, even with all the conversations, dings, bells, pin pricks, diaper changes, passersby asking how old, and gale force winds blowing in the parking lot.

Our son is tough. And pure sugar.