They say that the Dutch are amongst the tallest people in the world. My mother’s side of the family certainly seems set to prove it. My gorgeous sister towers over lesser mortals at 6”4 (without heels). My uncles hover close to the heavens at nearly 7”. It seems that my darling (not-so) little E has taken up the Dutch genes. He is a tall kid. Judging by the size of his feet, he is going to be a very tall man.
At two and a couple of months he is at least a head taller than most of his friends. He is not a string bean – his body is in proportion with his height. He still has a baby face and screw on hands and feet. But kids don’t register those things when guessing age. It’s all about height and size. (Not-so) little E will often have three and four year old kids come up to him in the park, ask him his name and if wants to play. His language and social skills don’t extend to that just yet so he smiles shyly back. The other kids shrug their shoulders and leave. And I fight the desire to run up and say: “He’s only two and he wants to play, he just can’t talk like you can yet.”
