Today, I’m going to have a short post. Well, it’ll be on a short topic. Wow, that doesn’t sound bad. Let me explain what I mean.
Without shoes on I am 5-foot 6 3/8 inches tall. Mary (my wife for those that still don’t know) is 4-foot 11 1/2 inches tall. My daughter Lizzie is small. Yes, we are reminded of this quite regularly. “Oh, she’s small,” people will say. (You know, after they say how cute she is, which is always a nice compliment, and always true.) Well, of course she’s small. Look at her friggin’ parents! I didn’t exactly get the luxury of being the 5’9″ that I actually once dreamed about. Mary never remained past 5 feet like she hoped. Do we care? No! Why should you? Oh, and our son, James, he’s small too. But at least he’s bigger than his sister was.
It’s funny the look people give me when I call James chunky. He is. In comparison to his sister or to how he was at birth, James is more chunky than he was. No, he’s not obese or fat. He’s just not as small as he was. No, he’s not the chunkiest little baby out there. Thank goodness for that.
So, it’s funny to hear people remind me that I’m short. Do you really think I don’t know? Yeah, I know you’re just adding to the conversation. I know you’re just thinking you’re being but do you really understand that I haven’t cared since high school. Sure, some days I wish I was taller. Sure, some days I wish my wife was a little taller. Sure, I wish that Lizzie wasn’t going to be the shortest in her class. Yeah, I hope James isn’t going to be the shortest boy in his school. In the end. That’s life. I was picked on and teased for my height, one of a plethora of things that people found ‘wrong’ with me or, for a better term, mockable. (Hey! WordPress doesn’t recognize mockable! It’s a word! I said it, it must be one, right?)