I find that I often have trouble recognizing how small Lola is. She’s only 3; she’s barely out of toddlerhood. And yet I have to constantly remind myself of that. I just know I’m not going to explain this well.
She just doesn’t seem small. First of all, she’s pretty tall. She’s consistently in at least the 90th percentile (and Corbin was only 70th at his 4 month WBV, I’m so scared that he’s going to be shorter than his sister.) And that hair! She has a lot of flippin hair. My sister always comments that she has the hair of a gown woman. Plus, don’t we all find ourselves acting as though our kids are just little adults sometimes?
I think, though, that the biggest reason why Lola seems so much bigger to me is her larger than life personality. When she’s in a room, she fills the whole thing! Her voice is so big; we have to work and work and work at how to use an appropriate voice level. Her emotions are so big; when she is happy, she is ELATED, when she is upset, your heart absolutely BREAKS with the level of raw emotion she displays. (Except for all those times when she’s upset and your heart just sort of hardens to how ridiculously annoying she can become.) Her hugs are so big, her smiles are so big, her vocabulary is pretty darn big, even her feet are bigger than normal!
Nothing is small or subtle; everything is to excess. It’s a blessing and a curse.
It is only when she’s not in the room that I really see her smallness. Her little jacket hangs over mine on the hook and the whole thing just reaches my jacket’s shoulder. Her tiny little girl undershirts are so sweet and small. (And so strewn about! There is a thing called a laundry hamper, people! It’s right there in her closet!) And I wonder how those tiny things can possibly fit around all that muchness.
Sometimes, in those rare times of Lola being still for more than 0.5 seconds, she will lay by me and I take stock of how her frame compares to mine. Her whole body can fit on my torso. Her thighbones are dwarfed by mine. One of my favorites is the look of her tiny shoulder blades on her little back.
I am brought back to the reality of her young age when she doesn’t know the right word for “ripe.” Or when she doesn’t understand that you shouldn’t run outside with no pants on.
She’s getting bigger by the second, so I’m really trying hard to note the smallness when I can.
Oh, and funny thing Lola said yesteray: DH brought home onion rings, and she said “ooh, donut!” I said, “I don’t think you’ll like that honey, it’s an onion ring.” She happily took a bite and said, “Mmm, onion donuts.”