Monday, November 3, 2008

I'm stacking bricks on their heads.

Ian, our youngest, has always been lovingly considered the runt of the family. Not that he's ever been small, by any means. Growth chart wise, he's been normal, which, with our chubby babies, "husky" toddlers (as WIC put it) and "90th percentile in height" children, was not normal. On our measuring chart, he's always been waaaay shorter than the other kids were at that respective age, by quite a bit. (Taylor's been tallest, then Jord, then Brit.) They all went through that awkward time around age 3 when their pants fit funny because the waist had to make room for the slowly fading baby gut, and the legs were never long enough. Ian never had the baby gut to begin with, and I've always had to cuff his pants and cinch those adjustable elastic waistbands as far as they could go. We figured he'd wind up being smaller in height and girth than the others. (Which would go well with his penchant for front rolls and standing on his head. Gymnasts tend to be small.)

Last night we measured them. (Here is where we will overlook the fact that Taylor is fast closing in on my 5'6 1/4" with his now 5'3" frame so I don't hyperventilate.)

Nate hollered from upstairs. "Holy Cow! Babe, come look a this!"

Ian is suddenly TALLER than Taylor was at his age, which means he has Jord and Brit beat by quite a bit, too. (No wonder all his shorts and pants suddenly didn't fit this summer.)

I was taking solace in the hope that maybe just one of my children wouldn't tower over me as adults. I guess that's out the window now.
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1 Comments:

Anonymous said...

Ha! What day was it I stood in your kitchen and told you he had grown? Yep all the sudden he shot up didn't he. Too fun!