On the limitations of height

I am not a tall person.  If you know me in person, especially if you are one of my siblings, you are probably now laughing hysterically. I am one of four kids. Two of us are tall. Two of us are not. It is a profound injustice, to my way of thinking, that my baby sister has a full 12 inches on me, as does my baby brother.

She can reach the top shelf in the kitchen.  She can see what’s on top of the refrigerator.

Needless to say, I can’t do either of those things without a stool.

But I can walk under the laundry line without ducking and I have never, ever had to worry about whether or not a ceiling fan was going to whack me on the head.

My son is, at the moment, rather obsessed with a person’s physical size.  He is, for now, the kind of kid that most other people describe as “tiny” and it bothers him a lot, for this year, many of his friends have outgrown their childhood and fully embraced that lanky, leggy, tall state of being known as teenagerhood.

I try, as I am sure all mothers do, to reassure him that he is growing daily (as is evidenced by his constant need for new pants and new shoes), but only time will tell if he will take after me and my lack of stature, or if he will be more like his uncle M, my little brother, who was a rather tiny boy until suddenly he wasn’t.

I have, in my 43 years of existing, gotten used to not being able to see anything over 5 feet high without the help of a ladder.  I once lost our trivets.  You know, those things you put on the table before putting a hot dish on them? Who on earth loses their trivets? Three of them? All on the same day?

Me, apparently.

And they were gone for long enough that I finally gave up hope of ever finding them and replaced them with new ones.  It wasn’t until some time later when I climbed up on a stool to clean the top of the fridge, that I discovered The Man We Call Dad had merely put them away in a place that seemed logical to him at the time, but that is entirely out of sight for me.

So now I have 6 trivets and a note-to-self to look in the tall places before giving up hope.

Apparently, K now has the same mental note, for this week, he tidied up his locker at school and it finally dawned on him to look on the top shelf (his locker has 2 upper shelves, you see, but only one in easy reach). On that top shelf, he found quite a few treasures, including 2 pairs of mittens, a hat, a sweater, 2 art projects, and his cache-cou.

Just in time for the weather to be warm enough that the cache-cou is no longer needed, he has found it and is now a very happy boy indeed.

Ironically, this has happened in the very same week that he has announced yet again that none of his pants fit and, oh yeah, he needs yet another pair of new sneakers, too. With any luck, he’ll soon be tall enough to see on top of the fridge for me, too.

 

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