Diary of a Shrimpy Kid

I haven’t always loved the fact that I’m on the smaller side of the ‘normal’ scale when it comes to height.  I clearly remember being measured in grade 3, grade 4 and grade 5 and having to bear the title of “shortest kid in the class”.   (why do teachers do that?!)

Of course at that point in  life anything that made you stand out was an embarrassment.   Tallest.  Shortest.  Freckliest.  It didn’t matter.  Everyone just wanted to fit in.

What I didn’t know at that time was that being small would work to my benefit.  Did I ever mention that my new coat this year is from Donna Karen’s kids line?  It is.  And I’m perfectly fine with that cause no child should  have a coat that costs that much money.  I, on the other hand, should.

Anyways, my eldest son has taken after me.  Not in my love of Donna Karen, thank goodness.  But in my stature.  Since he started school he’s usually been tied for shortest in class with some sweet little girl in pigtails.  We’ve built this up to be no big deal in our home and in fact, a privilige.  He’s always been totally okay with it.  Actually, this year the little girl in pigtails (who is no longer in pigtails but skinny jeans and uggs – yikes!  But that’s another post altogether) even passed him.  So he’s all on his own with the title of shorty.

I went to his middle school the other day for parent teacher interviews and without any shame he proclaimed, “Check this out mom!  I can fit in my locker!”  I watched in awe as he climbed in and shut the door.  Thankfully,  he’s got some street smarts and when he saw the slightly horrified look on my face he stated matter-of-factly, “Don’t worry, I would never do this when there are grade 8’s around!”

Whew.

 

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