"He's so big," they would say, and I would smile with pride. Pride in my ability to take a sickly infant and nurse him -- literally -- to a healthy-looking babe.
"He's in 12-month clothes," I would say, and they would murmur their amazement.
"He's so big," they would say, and I would shrug my shoulders.
"Our retirement plan consists of D. playing for the Lakers," I would say, and they would laugh in appreciation. What a sense of humor!
"He's so big," they would say in wonder, glancing at Mr. WG, who is, frankly, short.
"Well, we figure Yao Ming's mother must have felt the same way," I said. Until someone told me that I was wrong.
"He's so big," they would say, and I would nod.
"Yep."
"He's so big," they say now, and I nod.
"Yes he is."
"He's not three yet?" they persist, and I nod again.
"Right."
"He's really big!"
"Well, he has an overgrowth syndrome," I say, and I must admit that I take some sick satisfaction at the look that comes across their faces as they realize what's going on.
And I remember what it used to feel like, when I would smile with pride.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The Girl I Used to Be
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2 comments:
It definetly sucks to lose that blissful sense of well-being. I know.
I get that same sick sense of shutting people up.
I swear we are soulmates.
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