Diminutive Potholers

I’ve started shrinking!

I’m a little surprised, I had thought that shrinkage wouldn’t set in for at least another 10 years but today when I tried to hang my shoes up on the nails I have drilled into the beam for just such a moment everything suddenly appeared to be a tiptoe too far.

Of course it may be that the house is growing which would help some of the storage problems we suffer from here but we would probably end up having to pay more space-tax or something.

However, despite this apparent and unwelcome shrinking I still couldn’t get into the car this morning.

You see, Krissie, wife and mother to my children as well as faithful companion and putter-upper with all things me, is a diminutive soul and recently has been driving the other car, the one I usually use.

She is also a little short sighted so her size and vision combine to render it necessary to move the car seat VERY close to the windscreen, which is why this morning after scraping ice from the windows I was unable to sit down.

Actually I wasn’t able to enter the car at all, my head wedged as it was inside the door opening, until Minnie, my daughter, had worked out how to operate the seat sliding and readjustment system, something which was hindered by her last minute preparation for a school test on chromosomes and all things gene and genome.

At least it gave us a chance to discuss the role of dominant tallness DNA thingy in our own family.

Before I became a parent I tried to anticipate potential problems of upbringing.

Naively this mainly consisted of thinking about the traumatic parent/child moments in my own youth and imagining ways to avoid them.

What no one told me, perhaps because it was so obvious that nobody needs to, though having said that I realise no one told me anything, THAT the issues were all going to be unique to our (MY children and me) experience.

Both my children are tall.

Both want to be short like their mum.

What to do?

I tried getting them interested in basketball, they prefer potholing!