If someone walked up to you and happily said, “I saw a photo of you on social media and couldn’t believe how plump you looked!” How would you respond? What if a friend told you that your face is looking rather lined lately, or your arms could use some toning up? Would you smile?
No, you’d be appalled. You’d frown and ask them what is wrong with them that they think that is an appropriate thing to say to another person. At the very least you would write that person off, right? Yet people feel they can talk to and about kids with this tone. They comment on them as though they are people in progress and don’t yet have feelings or awareness about their bodies and how they present to the world. I am well acquainted with the effort it takes to swallow my rage when someone says something about my kids – not for the speaker, oh no, not to keep the peace in the moment. I am quiet only because I don’t want to cause my kids an issue or have it get back to them that their mom made someone cry.
My son is small for his age. Though he is about to turn fourteen, his bone age is between eleven and a half and twelve. That means that although his brain is his chronological age, his body is almost two years behind, and in 8th grade those months of growth delay feel like years. While he is small, he is a sports phenom and competes with boys well over a foot taller than him. He tackles with force on the football field and we have been told multiple times that his movement on the field reminds people of Barry Sanders. He’s good at every sport he’s ever tried, after his first season of basketball a rival team asked if he’d join them for the next season. He’s never missed the Honor Roll, and his teachers consistently talk about what a joy he is to have in class. His wit is quick and smart, he’s thoughtful and self aware. His friends’ moms always comment on how emotionally intelligent he is and how gorgeous he will be as he matures.
And yet some people can only comment on his size.
“He looks so tiny next to the other boys his age!” Said with a smile that slides across my skin like a razor blade. “He can’t play the lead, it doesn’t matter how beautifully he sings, the optics wouldn’t work. The audience wouldn’t believe he’s a leading man when he’s so short.” And the wound opens, the air stinging. “That little guy sure can move! Man, he’s quick!” My pulse racing doesn’t help as the pain throbs. I have to bite my tongue. Making it clear that my kid is running circles around theirs doesn’t fix the issue. Telling someone that he has a medical condition delaying his growth doesn’t make them care. So I bite my tongue. I bite my tongue so hard it bleeds and then I go home and rant to my husband and he knows what it was like to be an 8th grade boy and he says he’ll be fine, he’s the champion. He’s right – the kid will grow. Every doctor has said that he will not only grow but he will grow long past all the other boys are done growing. His body will start and it will just grow and grow until he is physically looking down on all the people who thought it prudent to comment on something that was painful for him.
And I will feel vindicated that he can look down on them because I am not a mother who forgets. But he will not ever look down upon anyone because that’s not who he is. When girls make mean comments in the hall he has been advised by many to respond with something cruel and memorable – he’s not interested. When he joined his tackle football team, he was told by the coach’s son that he couldn’t contribute to a conversation in the huddle because “bro, you’re like 4 foot 7, shut up.” His response? “I’m going to wait and see if he’s mean or if that’s just how he thinks boys talk to each other,” He said the kid was cool at the next practice. Boys his age are generally the easiest about his size – game respects game, I guess. All the boys on his basketball, baseball and multiple football teams know how talented he is and that his impact on the team has nothing to do with his height. And they’re all his friends regardless of his measurements. He’s funny and he’s kind and he’s talented – that’s all they need.
But the adults keep testing my patience.
He will grow and they will all be quiet…or not. They’ll probably all have something to say about when he was small or about how tall he is now or some other thing that they don’t take the time to think through how they might make someone feel. He will grow and they will stay the same. He will grow and hopefully the sting of all their words will lessen over time. He will grow and he will always be kind because he lived through the ignorance of people thinking they could make flippant comments about something he couldn’t do anything to change. My boy will grow as a person. He will remember the people who made him feel small but…
…He will not want to return the pain. Because he may be smaller than his age suggests, but he is more emotionally aware than many of the adults who make comments about his size. He will be a good man – a fully grown, well balanced good man who moves through the world with thoughfulness and care because he will remember what it felt like to be called small. But he will know that there is no one bigger than him, because in the words of his older sister, “He is the GOAT. And no one will ever compare.”
Do we want a kids menu? No thank you. He eats like a man.
