My Sons Have Gigantic Heads
My sons have gigantic heads. Just my sons. I don't know what it is, or how they ended up that way, but...serious hugeneness.
We have always (secretly) referred to my oldest son as Punkin' Head. His head always measured a good 25-40% larger on his growth chart than the rest of him. The head won the growth race, every time. When he was a baby, and was undergoing the battery of tests they performed to isolate what caused his cleft palate, they even explored the possibility that his large head could be somehow related. It's not, thank goodness. He was just overly blessed in the melon department.
My youngest had his 4-year well checkup today. Like his big brother, he's got some serious noggin going on. When he was a baby, the neighbor boys thought he looked like Harold, of Harold and the Purple Crayon.
Rats, that would've been a great Halloween costume.
Today, as he sat on the table talking to the doctor, naked except for his Tow-mater underwear and socks, I noticed that his little baby body is finally thinning out and becoming little boy body. Sadness. And cuteness. But not good news for his head.
I'll be honest with you, I kind of lost track of what the doctor was saying. I was too busy marveling over the fact that he didn't topple right over. Boldly defying the laws of gravity daily, that's my boys.
My oldest son, at 8, is finally growing into his head. It's about time. He wants to be on the swim team again and, by all logic, with that head he should be sinking straight to the bottom of the pool. Imagine if he finally has grown into it -- hello Michael Phelps!
I'm kind of sad to see the head now losing its comfortable lead. It means that he's growing up. One day, the race will be over, and punkin' head will be no more. Gosh, I love that little big head!
Luckily, I still have Harold. Now, where's that purple crayon?
We have always (secretly) referred to my oldest son as Punkin' Head. His head always measured a good 25-40% larger on his growth chart than the rest of him. The head won the growth race, every time. When he was a baby, and was undergoing the battery of tests they performed to isolate what caused his cleft palate, they even explored the possibility that his large head could be somehow related. It's not, thank goodness. He was just overly blessed in the melon department.
My youngest had his 4-year well checkup today. Like his big brother, he's got some serious noggin going on. When he was a baby, the neighbor boys thought he looked like Harold, of Harold and the Purple Crayon.
Rats, that would've been a great Halloween costume.
Today, as he sat on the table talking to the doctor, naked except for his Tow-mater underwear and socks, I noticed that his little baby body is finally thinning out and becoming little boy body. Sadness. And cuteness. But not good news for his head.
I'll be honest with you, I kind of lost track of what the doctor was saying. I was too busy marveling over the fact that he didn't topple right over. Boldly defying the laws of gravity daily, that's my boys.
My oldest son, at 8, is finally growing into his head. It's about time. He wants to be on the swim team again and, by all logic, with that head he should be sinking straight to the bottom of the pool. Imagine if he finally has grown into it -- hello Michael Phelps!
I'm kind of sad to see the head now losing its comfortable lead. It means that he's growing up. One day, the race will be over, and punkin' head will be no more. Gosh, I love that little big head!
Luckily, I still have Harold. Now, where's that purple crayon?
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