My son is four years younger than my daughter. For all intents and purposes, she has finished growing. Her feet have been the same size for five years. She still wears clothes that she bought four years ago.
My son, on the other hand, is growing like a weed. His feet are enormous, he needs new shoes every six months. His wrist hang out of last year’s long sleeved shirts and half his leg shows in last year’s long pants.
He is just a fraction shorter than his sister now. He checks frequently in eager anticipation of the day when he has to look down to meet her eye. It will be a very special day for him, but I’m not too sure that she will remember it so fondly.
She has always taken a very motherly role toward him. In fact, a downright bossy role. He delights in watching her rant about him making her late. He wanders the house searching for a lost shoe, at an aching slow pace, as she melts down into a full rant. I see the sly smile cross his face as she starts to bluster. She has never quite worked out that her best option is to walk away. I have tried to tell her, but I think that she often enjoys the opportunity for a justified rant.
I wonder how his height will change the relationship. I intend to just sit back and watch the dynamic change.
PS Today is the last day to leave me a comment if you would like to be included in the giveaway quilt. Don’t forget!