God Made Me This Way

A few months ago I started playing a little game with Phoenix. For some reason he likes for me to stand up on all fours while he crawls underneath me. I call it "The Bridge." As he crawls back and forth the bridge (that's me) will suddenly collapse, which involves me "falling" down on top of him and tickling him.

We were playing this game just the other day, and the t-shirt I was wearing was hanging down. He suddenly stopped and pointed at me. I sat down next to him and lifted my shirt, thinking he was pointing at a freckle that I have on my stomach (which he's done before). This time, however, he looked at the hair on my chest. He crawled up into my lap, reached out his little hand, and started pulling the hair, trying to get it off.

"Got made me this way," I responded, all the while thinking to myself, "but I wish he hadn't." He continued his attempts to brush the hair away from my chest (I wish he had succeeded) and I said again, "Sorry, buddy, it doesn't come off. God made me this way." He seemed satisfied, and so he went off and we continued playing.