I have a couple of theories regarding child growth that I feel pretty confident about. I don’t have any charts or stats to prove that I am correct. I never took notes. However, I am quite positive that children double in size on a daily basis.
That is my first theory, and it is based upon new shoes that are too tight only an hour out of the box, once cuffed pants that suddenly fear high waters, and shirts that decide to stop halfway between elbow and wrist without the common courtesy of listing 1983 tour dates across the back.
I blame the children. They are growing faster than they should. Granted, it is most likely due to milk hormones, but I also think there might be something to the old adage, time flies when you’re old as hell and have young children. Pardon me, I paraphrased.
The point is, my little boys spend far too much of their time being big boys, and frankly, I’m against it. It makes me so upset that I wish some corporation would come out as supporting it just so I could boycott whatever it is they do.That’s not to say that I want their growth, be it physical, mental or emotional, to be stunted. I just want my kids to pace themselves. Where’s the damn fire?
Each day, assuming I bother to stop and smell it, is full of rose-tinted milestones. Sure, it is also full of a bunch of crap, but the moments are there, and I am fully aware that it is only a matter of time, very little time, until they are not.
That is the part about parenting that sucks.
It is also what makes it so stinking glorious that life would pale without it.
The kids are growing, and they are finding themselves, and we are pushing them, guiding them, holding the net, holding them back, and letting them fail, depending on the mood, on any given day. You know what I’m talking about.
They say that the body grows while it is sleeping. I’m not a scientist. Hell, I didn’t even stay at a Holiday Inn last night. I’m of no authority to dispute such claims.
But I know what I have seen (this is the second theory that I alluded to earlier).
For all this talk of growth, time and the fleetingness of it, there are those wee small hours, aptly named, where darkness and silence work in perfect unison with a late glass of water or the lingering echo of movie monsters, and for a moment, one precious moment when you stir from a dream-soaked sleep, children shrink.
They appear at the foot of the bed, hair disheveled, cartoon-covered pajamas taut with the tininess of their stature, and their voice a whisper soft and wanting. They know nothing but need and trust, and there was never any doubt of whom they should turn to.
Maybe it is the abrupt awakening and the adrenaline that accompanies it, or perhaps there is something between the strength of a hairy back (mine) and the phases of the moon, but standing there in the still of the night with a bundle of love wrapped tightly around you, they will never feel more light. And nothing will ever be more clear.
You could dance together in small, slow steps, somewhere along the hallway, just shadows, breaths, and lullabies. No one would ever know, but for you and fading starlight.
You may have your own theories.
Read more from Whit Honea at his site Honea Express and the popular group blog DadCentric. You can follow Whit on the Twitter or Pinterest (his opinions are his own and do not reflect those of Babble or most rational people).
Also from Whit: