I have a little pixie pip-squeak of a daughter. Her name is Ruby. She's just a little girl. But the world treats her differently than other little girls her age. She is tall, and "all there" as we like to say. Ruby has always measured in the 99th percentile for height and weight. She's never been petite, never been tiny, never been a "little" girl.
I notice that I, and many many other people around me, treat small people differently. We talk more sweetly, act more protective, excuse more behaviors... But Ruby stands a head taller than most of the girls in her class, and I'll bet she outweighs them by 15-20lb too. And last night my heart was bursting for her as I watched her step up to the microphone at school to recite her poem.
All the kids in the kindergarten class had a memory piece to perform. Most kids stepped onto the stand and reached with their tip toes to speak into the mic. Ruby towered over it, and had to hunch down a bit. Her jaw was quivering, and her eyes peeked at the crowd behind her long curly lashes. She kept her hands at her side and fiddled with her dress, and recited her poem as fast as her tongue would carry her through the awkwardness.
She's just a little girl! Forget that she wears size 10/12 and weighs more than half of me. When the performances were over, I rushed over to her and picked her up. She buried her head in my neck and sobbed - I think tears of relief that it was over, and tears of disappointment that it was scarier than she anticipated. I remember crying those kind of tears as a kid. But I was the pixie pip sqeak that could ride on my mom's hip at age 11. I was the kid people talked to with a higher voice and softened eyes. I was "small" and "quiet" and "compliant". My daughter isn't those things. But last night ~ I saw again how little she is. I saw how she needs to be carried around on someone's hip sometimes (oh Lord, please grow my back muscles!).
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