Every time he saw Molly’s piercing: “Mommy has it.” While brushing his teeth. Playing with Legos. When I tucked him into bed, he pressed his finger into his own belly and said, “Just like Mommy.”
It burrowed under my skin.
“Patrick,” I asked one night, “has Tommy ever seen a belly-button piercing on me?”
He laughed without looking up from his laptop. “Uh, no? Unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”
“He keeps saying it,” I pushed. “About Molly’s piercing.”
Patrick shrugged. “He probably saw you in a bikini once and got confused. Don’t overthink it.”
Everyone had the same word for me later: paranoid.
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