poor worm

On the way back from the zoo, I found an inchworm on my leg in the van. I saved it, and when Simon woke up from his nap, I gave it to him. He played with it the rest of the ride, the whole evening, (crying when he lost it a few times) and even the next morning, when it was barely alive. I kept saying, "poor worm..." and then Simon would correct me. "It's not a 'poor worm' - it's my worm!"