she’s got legs
There are just a few wisps of baby cocoon clinging to Little Friend’s rapidly spreading pre-schooler wings. The other day, Big Friend and I realized that another sizable chunk of cocoon had fallen off.
Somehow, somewhere, Little Friend has shot up in height.
She’s got legs.
Tall, lean, muscular legs. Legs that propel her at mach speeds around the mall playland. Legs that spring uninhibited to leap three steps in a single bound. Legs that stick knobby angles beyond the frayed edges of her size 2T pants.
If she’s lucky, she’ll have inherited Big Friend’s legs. They’re kinda his sexiest feature. And I just totally embarrassed him by writing that for the world to see. All the same, she’ll be lucky.
If she’s unlucky, she’ll have inherited my short stumps of legs. Legs that reliably allowed me to come in dead last on the 200 meter dash and hurdles. No one on my track team asked where I had disappeared to when I gracefully retired with stress fractures.
So far, Little Friend seems to be stretching into the stratosphere on legs all of her own independent, strong-willed, convicted making.
You’d think I would have noticed my baby disappearing in more obvious ways–facial features elongating, tubby tummy flattening, fingers learning the dexterity of buttons and zippers.
But no. It’s the legs that have somehow kicked a bruise in my heartstrings.
Have I mentioned, this gal’s got legs?
That’s all I wanted to say today folks. My baby’s in shreds and my toddler’s in full-grow(ing) glory. If you need me, look first for Little Friend sprinting by. I’ll be huffing along a bit later, dead last in this race toward growing up.