“Underwear and unshaved legs go unnoticed. A dirty belly button is remembered forever.”

— @thcirculatinglife

Do you have an innie or an outie? I ask because belly buttons matter!

I’ve been obsessed with belly buttons my entire life, to the point where I told two obstetricians who delivered my babies to make sure my kids had “innies” (along with telling the docs to act like artists when it came to stitching me up after my C-sections).

They rallied. My kids have innies, and you can’t see any C-section scars at all!

When people ask what I would like to change about myself, my immediate response is “my belly button.” 

I hate mine. It’s both innie and outie — not deep enough for belly button lint, thankfully (don’t get me started…) but outside enough that I often feel uncomfortable exposing my navel.

But here’s the good news: the Belly Button Family is back!

When my first-born daughter, Rowan, was much younger, one of her favourite bedtime stories was about a family of belly buttons.

There was Mama Belly Button, Father Belly Button, Sister Belly Button and Brother Belly Button — all of whom had to roll or bounce to get around because they didn’t have legs, feet, or hands. You won’t find this children’s story in schools or libraries or bookstores (yet?).

Because I made it all up.

Perhaps it’s because I’m a writer, thus have a very active imagination, but when my daughter was little, I would often make up bedtime stories for her, verbally and off-the-cuff, instead of reading to her. 

And now I get to do it for my son, too!

Of course, reading to your children is probably one of the most important things you can offer your kids when it comes to education, learning, and growth. It helps them to develop a love for words, recognize letters, and enjoy a topic they like.

But not always. 

Take my nine-year-old son, who can read, but when it comes to getting him to actually read a whole book, in his words “it’s torture!” (I’ll save what it's like to be an author who has a kid who HATES reading for some other time.)

Since I absolutely loved making up bedtime stories for my eldest, I’ve started — or maybe “resorted” is a better word — to tell my son bedtime stories verbally. It requires that I think quick on my feet, but it’s fun for both of us.

When I used to make up stories about the Belly Button Family for my daughter, and she once asked how I first met them, I told her how Mama Belly Button rang our doorbell one day while she was at school. I added that because I couldn’t see her — belly buttons are so tiny and cute! — I slammed the door.

As the Belly Button Family story progressed, I would tell my daughter how the doorbell rang again, but this time, I heard a small, squeaky voice calling out, ‘Hello! Down here! I’m a Belly Button! Look down! My family just moved across the street!”

Unlike reading her books — which she understood — my daughter had endless questions about the Belly Button Family, which I would answer as seriously as possible because the story was, at one point, very real to her.

“Yes, you need to be careful when you walk down our street now,” I remember saying to my daughter one night. 

And “Yes, the Belly Button Family moved into the backyard shed of the neighbours across the street,” I said another night.

And “Sure, one day you can take Sister Belly Button to school, as long as you keep her in your backpack.” 

Every night, for almost an entire year(!) my daughter wanted to hear more about the Belly Button Family adventures, how they had to bounce up and down the street and try not to get stepped on by humans or run over by cars.

Making up stories, as opposed to reading children’s books, has many positives. 

It’s actually easier to verbally make up a story on the spot for my nine-year-old son than it is to get him to read even Captain Underpants —  stories that are just as crazy and entertaining as the Belly Button Family.

“Yes, I was once I mermaid.”

“Yes, a wizard had turned me into a human so I could have babies.”

“Yes, when you’re at school, Sam the Squirrel, who is always racing up and down the front tree of our house, got into a lot of trouble with Ruby the Robin, the bird that hangs out in our backyard.”

“Yes, they both snuck into the fridge and made a huge mess trying to get to the snacks!”

“Yes, the sibling Belly Buttons bounced into his bedroom window and played with your toys.”

My son now asks me to tell him more about the Belly Button Family — even though he knows that the bedtime stories that come out of my mouth are mostly not real, I HAVE managed to keep him wondering whether the Belly Button Family is in fact real or if Mommy is just making this shit up.

Good for all of us parents who use our imagination to make up bedtime stories! Because if you DON’T teach your kids to have active imaginations, you’re going to be hearing “I’m bored!” pretty often — unlike kids who’ve learned to use their imaginations and can, therefore, easily entertain themselves.

“Without the use of books, telling stories takes on a different dimension. It offers a new way of looking at stories and is reminiscent of the old radio days, when families gathered around and listened together,” this article points out. (OK, now this is even before MY time!) 

It is a very different experience reading a book to your child than making up a story, and I think it’s partly because they aren’t really sure if I’m telling the truth, whereas if I’m reading a book, they know the story IS just a story that ends on the last page.

When I’m making up a story, my children ask so many more questions, leading to a more interactive, bonding experience. They want to know more details, and they listen in awe…

“Belly Button Mama came over to hang with me and teach me to bake a cake today while you were at school.” 

“Mama Belly Button tried bouncing onto the counter, but she couldn’t make it that high, so I just picked her up!” 

These stories may seem a lot more personal (and entertaining!) to them. Storytelling, the old-school way, is an ancient form of communication that has many positive benefits. When it comes to language skills, “Storytelling also presents certain literary devices in a demonstrative and memorable way. Children will see and hear the building of plot, characterization, climax, conflict, conclusion, etc. Perhaps rhyme or poetic prose will be used to tell the story, allowing children to hear the way the language sounds and how that can add to the story.” 

Brilliant!

Thinking of things to add to a made-up story helps — I hope — my kids to be curious and imaginative. 

It helped me too because I never, and still don’t, want to read my son’s ONE favourite book for the 80th time — even though I’m the one that co-authored it! (It’s super fun, and the illustrations are beyond! You can order it here.)

“Without books or illustrations, children have to remember key points of the plot and character names. This is an excellent exercise in memorization skills, and it also may help guide children when they wish to write a story of their own.” 

All this is mostly true. My son remembers everything, to the point where I use him as Waze to get places. (Did I mention he’s nine?!)

My daughter’s report cards for years mentioned how she could write professionally, because of her “wonderful use of imaginative metaphors.” (I’m going to take some of that credit!)

That being said, my daughter is SO imaginative, she decided last week to tie a chair to her skis, sit on it, and slide down a hill as quickly as possible. Sure, she nearly crashed into a tree... So, pros and cons and all!

 If you don’t think you can just make up stories on the fly, just google “bedtime story starters,” and a host of ideas will pop up to help. Or check some ideas out here!

One thing, though? Eventually, their questions become too difficult. My daughter, now 18, who adored the Belly Button Family stories I told her, eventually started asking me questions like, “So, wait. You came from Mars before I was born…but were you a mermaid after that or before your spaceship crashed and the wizard turned you into a human?”

That was when I would say, “Time to sleep!”

While my made-up oral bedtime stories may help my kids’ memories, I’ve conjured up so many stories that I’m the one who forgets what details I made up.

In any case, for years growing up, I told my baby brother how I was the one who let him in the house after someone just left him on the doorstep, along with other stories about how trees could talk and photographs came to life whenever he was asleep.

Thirty-plus years later? My brother is fine. And, more importantly, an avid reader.