I might be ready to admit it. I think the 12yo might finally be taller than me.
If you know me, this is not a huge feat (as opposed to huge FEET…which he seems to now have), as I am a frequent visitor to the “petite” section of department store.
You know the section: it’s where they have lots of pastel sweatshirts with cutesy embroidery on them.
Because if you’re short, you apparently like embroidered sweatshirts.
Often these sweatshirts contain the word “Grandma” or some colloquial derivation of it. “Mamaw” to name just one.
Which clearly tells you that they make the assumption that if you’re shopping in this department you are both a) possible over the age of 85, and B) have possibly given up on trying to be hip and trendy.
But I digress.
This confession, of sorts, brings to a close the end of many, many weeks of DAILY having the child stand next to me to see if he is taller.
And it also brings to a close many, many weeks of me daily telling him “No, you aren’t there yet.”
For the past few, I think it was only my hair which was giving me the edge, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
I could see the hand-writing on the wall…it was only a matter of time.
As an aside, though, I did have a little laugh a couple weeks ago when I informed him that I, in fact, had not grown since I was about 12 years old.
The panic on his face was kind of priceless.
And the 11yo (who, you may have noticed, is somewhat small in stature) was even less than amused by my comment.
Way to feed that fear…nice job “Mother of the Year!”
But yesterday we went to a party. An Ugly Hawaiian Shirt Party, lest you think we all suddenly lost our ever-loving fashion sense minds.
And when I saw the shot of our family this morning, I decided that it might be time to concede: I think that he is taller than me.
But it still could be that he was standing closer to the camera. Or that the ground was uneven. I’m sure either one of those are perfectly viable options.
However I don’t really think either of those are the actual case (but, for the record, both are true).
I was feeling pretty good about it…that is until my 12yo saw the picture and the first thing he said was, “Well Mom, from now on, it looks like I get to be in the back row of all the family pictures.”
Let’s not be crazy…you’re still short enough to stand in front of your father (kind of), thank you. And until your brother is blocking my face, we are not switching the current line-up.