My oldest daughter is growing out of control. I don’t mean she’s becoming out of control in any emotional way, I mean it’s the growing she’s doing that is out of control. She grew another inch in the last couple of months. When I carry her (and she loves to be carried), I have to ask her repeatedly to tuck her long legs up and around me so they don’t get tangled up in my legs as I walk. At four years old, she’s just shy of 43” tall now. I’m not a tall mom. I’m 5’1”, and with only 18 inches between us, at the rate she’s going, she’ll pass me up in a few years. My husband assures me that she’ll slow down soon, but since he’s 6’3” tall, I don’t consider him an expert on slowing growth patterns.
So now String Bean’s pants are all flooding, but because she weighs maybe 34 pounds on a good day, she’s all ribs and hip bones, pointy elbows and knobby knees, and pants that are the right length simply slide off her slim frame. She’s been a picky eater most of her life, but lately she’s been eating quite well. Many days for lunch she’ll finish her sandwich, then finish her sister’s, then eat a couple of servings of fruit, then head to the kitchen for a snack. Obviously, all of these calories are fueling height but not weight.
String Bean’s been the tallest girl in her preschool class for a while now, but this week I noticed she’s caught up to most of the tallest boys in her class, too. My husband reminded me that there’s a window of time when girls are all outgrowing boys, before puberty hits and the boys shoot up. I just hope there aren’t any school dances or other boy/girl events during that time frame, as it’ll take a pretty confident boy to ask a girl whose a head taller than him to dance.