I reached the height of my glory in 5th grade. Our English class was putting on a production of a short play set in colonial times, and the two main characters were a printer named Patrick and his wife, Anna. The role of Patrick had already been cast, and was set to be played brilliantly by my classmate, Lee. The role of Anna, the wife, was up for grabs. Our teacher, Mr. Bell, (a man whose name I still curse,) told me that he wanted to pick me to play Anna, but unfortunately I was taller than Lee, and since wives are not supposed to be taller than their husbands, I was ineligible to play the role. That was the first -and the last -time being extraordinarily tall would be a problem for me.
(By the way, I totally protested Mr. Bell's sexist bullshit and pointed out that by that logic my friend TJ, who was of Korean descent, should also be banned from the play based on historical demographics. Sorry Teej.)
But back to my main point: I am not a tall person. I'm not super short, either, but I've basically been 5'3" for 25 years, give or take. Similarly, Geno is the dude version of me: not tall, not short, just average.
Which is what makes our son's apparent giant-ness fascinating. Our "little" 18 month old towers over kids up to one year his senior, and everytime a stranger asks me how old he is, their response is something along the lines of, "No way! He's huge!" Technically I know that there are other 18 month old kids taller than him, because he's only in the 80th percentile for height (60th for weight), but I'm beginning to think they don't live in Connecticut.
Perhaps its time for a trip to the heartland to hang out with some children of the corn... I know they at least grow tall 5th grade girls.
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