Belly B's

So yesterday, while I was driving my son (kid #1) and daughter (kid #2) home from preschool, we started talking about belly buttons.
Yep...belly buttons.

Kid 1: "Why do I have a belly button?"
Me: "Well, when you were a tiny, tiny baby and you were inside my tummy, there was a tube that connected us and that's how you got food" (which, as we all know, is the truth...but sounds really creepy and science-fiction-ey when you say it out loud...so that's nice).
Kid 1: "Oh"

Long pause.

We've been talking about families a lot lately (who is mama's daddy, who is daddy's daddy, who is daddy's daddy's daddy...you get the point. In fact, over Thanksgiving kid #1 looked at my mom and said "Who's your daddy?" I had to assure her that he did, in fact, want to know about Grandpa Bill and was not just setting her up for an inappropriate punchline. But I digress).
The point is, the next part of this conversation wasn't a huge surprise.

Kid 1: "Why do you have a belly button?"
Me: "Because when I was a tiny, tiny baby and was in my mama's tummy, that's how I was connected to her."
Kid 1: "Does Yaya have a belly button?"
Me: "Yes"
Kid 1: "Why?"
Me: "Because when she was a tiny, tiny baby that's how she was connected to her mama."
Kid 1: "Does Grammy (my grandmother) have a belly button?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Why"
Me: "Because when she was a tiny, tiny baby that's how she was connected to her mama."

And just as I'm welling up with tears up over the marvel that is motherhood; that we were actually physically connected to our mothers and how freaking amazing that really is, I hear "Poop!"

Followed by a round of giggles.
And then again "POOP! Mama, I said poop. That's a potty word!"
More giggling.

Sigh.