He Doesn't Fit Anymore

We have a very messy but it works measuring system.      

Actually, we have a couple of them and we use them for tracking the boys’ growth.    

Like most growth charts there is a pen involved and each incremental millimetre is recorded by an ink mark.  But instead of a standard sheet of paper, our technique is to duly record all evidence of growth on a piece of panelling nailed to the wall as you go into the kitchen. 

We moved into this house six years ago which means there are six years worth of etchings marked onto the panel.    Half inch by half inch, each child’s growth spurt is regularly accounted for.

This is only some of it

It makes absolutely no sense to me but Mister Husband knows what he’s at and I nodded along when he pointed out that someone has grown an inch and a half since September.

True story.

This week I was literally eaten out of house and home.  For the first time ever I had to buy extra bread.  They managed to empty the freezer stash as well.

I also had to purchase a new pair of runners and two tracksuit tops. 

The other measuring system is the one I use.  It’s slightly unorthodox in that it’s the press door.

Yes, that's FISH mixed up

The boys like to use the counter top in the kitchen for their drawing, pouring of cereal and I can open the overhead presses with ease.

Usually.

Oldest Boy almost suffered a concussion last year when I clobbered him.  I opened the door, expecting it to clear the top of his head as it normally did except this time, it documented his growth spurt and he got a bang on the forehead instead.

Now I am using this measuring system to track the three younger boys’ growth.

Because this method does not work for Oldest Boy I have employed an alternative technique.

My chin.

He’s a hugger, is Oldest Boy and earlier on this year I noticed how my chin barely skimmed the top of his head as we hugged.  If he stood on tippy toes, the top of his head would meet the underside of my chin and push it upwards.

We decided to use this as our new tracking device.

Last night after rugby he took a shower and afterwards he came upstairs and asked me to dry his hair.

I plugged in the hair dryer and got to work.  As he stood in front of me and the mirror, I noticed I couldn’t see his reflection as he was blocking my view.   I couldn’t even see the top of my head.

I was completely blocked.            

I stepped closer and touched my chin against the back of his head.  

He doesn’t fit under my chin anymore.

He was in his bare feet.

He doesn’t fit under my chin anymore.

He is almost eleven and nearly as tall as I am.  I am short.  But he is overtaking me.  Fast.   

He doesn’t fit under my chin anymore.