Stretch
We finally got around to printing out some photos of Henry. In the digital world, we have countless “files” of his darling mug, but, until yesterday, nothing tangible.
The prints also reinforced two things that Kristen and I already knew: a) Walgreens’ photo department could be the worst in the world and b) our camera stinks. I think that a has something to do with b, but I’m not really sure. A few years ago, Kristen saved up (and sold some vintage clothes) and bought a fabulous digital SLR camera, one which I’m completely incapable of using. I’m not a good photographer as it is; but all these various buttons and nobs and levers (and countless other “simple machines”) make it impossible to use. We have a tutorial DVD, so I have to find a few hours to watch it and practice. Because, frankly, I’m sick of dark, blurry, oddly pixelated photos (which is funny, because I thought these digital one-button cameras were supposed to get rid of dark and blurry).
But that’s not what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about the draft.
(No, that’s not it either. Doesn’t anyone else know “Alice’s Restaurant“?)
I really want to talk about how long Henry is, and this was backed up by the pictures I stared at in the car last night. I just couldn’t believe it. He’s long. Really long. And the amazing thing is that it’s not really his entire body (he’s still in the 50th percentile with that according to the medicine man), it’s just his torso.
From his shoulders to his butt, he may be 34 inches long. Sure, he’s only about 26 inches as it is, making his legs and head minus 8 inches, but I swear his body is the size of a 3-year-old. I think the problem is this: he has inherited my body length (which is that of a tall person) and Kristen’s legs (which is that of a … not so tall person). What we’re going to end up with is something along the lines of Grimace, long (purple) torso and short stubby (also purple) legs.
It’s gotten so that his clothes, ones that are sized 0-3 months, are too tight. Not around the middle — his chubbiness is limited to his legs and cheeks — but around his shoulders. This should not be happening! We have another 2 months usage of these garments! (Of course, our downstairs neighbor feels that this undersizing is all a big conspiracy perpitrated by the baby clothes cartel requiring us to buy more cute outfits. He’s also voting for McCain. But I digress.)
I really don’t know what to do about this. Not that I don’t like Henry growing; he has to do it. It’s just that I want him to grow all over. I want his legs to be long and lanky so that he, inheriting my super athleticism, will in 22 years begin his first season as a professional basketball player. I’ve purchased a rack and unless his legs start growing as fast as the rest of his body, he’ll be stretched for two hours every night.
That’s not a threat, Henry. It’s a promise.
September 30th, 2008 at 9:03 pm
be patient s-i-l… this neurotic worrying about how he’ll grow is starting to make you go off the deep end of the pool without your water wings. He’ll be perfect in his own right(which he is even now)… and the object is to guide… not impress into service. He’s got to be all HE can be[and I don't mean with the Army], not all you want him to be… you’re not supposed to vicariously live your life through him… he’s got to find his place in the scheme of things. Your job is to get him involved with sports, the arts and humanities and let him find what he enjoys doing.
<Ok… Ok… I’ll get off the soapbox now>