Numbers don't lie

One of the very best parenting ideas I ever, ever had, was to take a long, thin board and paint a growth chart on it for each child. We tended to move a lot, and any kitchen doorways that had charted kids' growth would have been left behind. (Plus, with four kids, can you imagine? It would look like a New York subway car after a graffiti artists' convention.)


Sarafina's been feeling sleepy and hungry (not to mention a teensy bit grouchy) lately, as well as stumbling around a tiny bit more than usual. The doors, table legs, and cupboards haven't been jumping out at her, so if she's smacking into them, it's probably because she's been issued Another New Body that she's not completely checked out on. So I've been suggesting that it's time to whip out Ye Olde Measuring Boarde and check.

But she's been resistant. "Wait until next week." "Wait until Thursday," and today was the day. Despite my cherished belief that I am Very Tall, the kid outgrew me a couple of months ago. I can tell, because my height is marked (like a goal) on the stick.

Today, she moved past the next inch. Three quarters of an inch in just over three months. Who knows, I might have been grouchy, too.


And why was today the day? Well, of course. She's fully fifteen as of one o'clock this morning. But daddy's height is a goal that might just not get overtaken in this life.

Happy Birthday, tall daughter.