T, “John Smith is a boy and I am a boy.” (I’m calling his classmate John Smith for privacy reasons. Actually John Smith isn’t working for me. I’m going to call him Jebediah Snodgrass. Yes, that is better.)
T, “Jebediah Snodgrass is bigger than me.”
Me, “Yup. He is.”
T, “Is Jebediah older than me?”
Me, “Nope. He is your age.”
T, “Why is he bigger? He is a boy and I am a boy.”
Me, “Because people come in all sizes. Everyone who is a certain age isn’t a certain size. You know X? She is a girl and Mommy is a girl and she is bigger. You know X? She is a girl and Mommy is a girl and she is bigger.” (Ok, I’m now using X because I’m in a hurry and can’t think up a couple of cool names.)
Grandpa, “And you know your Aunt X? She is a girl and your Mommy is a girl and your Mommy is bigger.”
Me, “Um, Dad? We were talking about height. But thank you. Thank you for that.”
Now, my Dad really is a terrific guy. In his defence everyone puts their foot in their mouth sometimes. I make quite an art out of it actually. But it is a special occasion when you shove your foot so far down your throat that it comes out of your butt. Today was Dad’s lucky day.
And Mom? Thank you for smacking the back of his head when you heard the story. He totally deserved that.
Get him Darth Vader!
When this boy grows up and stops looking just like Tweety Bird it will be absolutely heartbreaking for me.