I'm getting way too many indications that despite my many admonitions to cut it the hell out, my children, a/k/a Those Giraffes I Spawned, are growing up, up, up.
(For the record, screaming "Stop. Growing. NOW!" has proven to be completely ineffectual.)
1. Cuddling with my son last night, my nostrils found themselves flaring in distaste. "What the hell is that stench?" I wondered to myself. "Did I forget to put on my Lady Speed Stick this morning?" I did a quick pit sniff, but I was OK. "Crap," I thought, "It's him." So I had to teach him all about washing every day and putting on pit stop.
2. My daughter, who is even younger, but in some ways more developed, has been using pit stop for about six months.
3. My son is singing a solo in a school play. They had a rehearsal today. As we left school this afternoon, about six girls went up to him to tell him how well he sang. (I rushed him out of there before they started screaming and throwing their training bras at him.)
4. Then we went to buy new shoes. He's wearing a size 8. He's in fifth grade and his feet are two sizes bigger than mine. In fact, I think they might be as big as his father's.
I've given the matter a lot of thought, and I've decided the time for action has arrived. So I'm sending away to the Acme Anvil company for a couple of anvils. I figure I'll tie them to the children's heads and make them walk around like that every day, for say, an hour or so. It will be good for their posture, and more important, it will teach them to grow. Ha! But this is not harsh of me. After all, they both had palette expanders installed a couple of weeks ago, and every night I have to take a little wrench and crank this thing in their mouth one turn. So if installing metallic upper jaw devices is OK and has the blessing of the American Orthodontic Association (even though I bet my children will end up with huge honking upper jaws like the Simpsons) then it's OK to acquire growth inhibitors from the same company that supplied Wile. E. Coyote with his equipment. So there.