So that title is a little misleading. My children come out of the womb only a little on the larger than normal side. Like totes just above average. Seems to me that’s the sweet spot for pushing a baby out: not too big and not too small.
That sweet spot lasts for a hot minute. Somewhere in my children’s gene pool are the genes of giants.
I did not get them. It took me 22 years to hit 5’5″. Fun fact there. My sister, who has multiple law degrees from some of the top law schools in the country didn’t believe me I finally was this tall. Why, well, I’m super short compared to the rest of my siblings. Plus, for years I said I was shorter than that, and one day I actually measured myself. Oops. A girls gotta take all the extra height she can get. I told you the tall gene skipped me. So Mrs.I Have Twenty Law Degrees insists on measuring me one day. We bust out a trusty tape measure, and sure enough it reads 65 inches. She yells, “Haha, see!!!!” You are not 5’5″, you’re only 65 inches.”
At least she’s REALLY good at securities law and banks don’t need her to do math for them…
So back to my giant children. The thing about babies that come out normal size and then become giant size is that they outgrow everything. I mean everything. Kids in general outgrow clothes in record speed, but mine give it all new meaning. I have literally taken them shoe shopping, had the shoes fit, and then taken the shoes out of the box a day later to feet that no longer fit in said shoes. WTF.
Dresses become shirts in mere seconds on my daughter. Fact.
How tall are your kids? Oh, well, my three year old used to get hand me downs from her 5 year old cousin. She now can give hand me downs to that same cousin.
It’s cute for a minute. It even has a bit of shock value. I was in Whole Foods a few weeks ago just after E’s 12 month appointment. I had two separate people scold me because my kid had a pacifier in his mouth (um, what?!?), and when I told them it’s cool he just turned one they both apologized. Why, because I was only the world’s worst mom when they thought my 2 year old was strolling through the Gold Coast Whole Foods with his paci. It’s totes ok if he’s one, yo. Mom of the year, right here because I got my months right with the paci brigade.
It’s good for a little Starbucks side eye every now and again, too. I mean, who doesn’t like a good toddler meltdown with a pumpkin spice latte. It’s not really fall unless you get both at the same time. I know I’m ready for my PSL, and a good floor flailing. When your kid looks like they actually are three, this isn’t a big deal. Most parents have been there. They give you the commiserate looks of solidarity, and hold up their PSL in a nod to you. When, you’re three year old looks like they belong in junior high and is rolling around on the floor in tears, you don’t get quite the same welcome.
Occasionally, the tallness factor elicits some shock value. Like the moment the festival magician thinks she’s pulling a 7 year old on stage only to realize the giant next to her is three. Good thing my child is a diva that loves the stage. That poor performer panicked, and Miss V then didn’t want to leave the stage she loved it up there so much.
So for now, my wallet will be empty and strangers will forever be giving me the side eye. But in the end, I’ll be winning. Why, because my giant children will be able to reach all of tall cabinets. Who needs step stools, when you can grow giants?!?