Markus and I sat together on the sofa while watching a cartoon after dinner last night. He was being his sweet and clingy self again, making sure I remained seated beside him.
As we snuggled close together, he started feeling my stomach. Markus asked, “Mom, how many tummies do you have?”
“That's just one, divided in the middle,” I answered. The “division” was created by the way I was seated, legs up on the couch. Yeah, right.
“Mom, what do you do in the gym?” Markus asked.
“I walk, I do the elliptical trainer, do weights, stretch…”
“All you need to do are sit-ups,” he interrupted.
“I do that too.” So, you want to be my personal fitness trainer now?
He moved his hand to my side. “Mom, what are these?” He was obviously getting a kick out of squeezing the flab on my mid parts.
Not wanting to prolong the course of conversation, I decided to ignore the question. Besides, he wouldn’t understand love handles. I don't have a lot of those, just for the record.
“Watch TV now,” I changed the topic. Concentrate on what's showing, not on what's hiding.
Ahh, that boy.