It recently came to our attention that I am, officially, taller than my mom. How this happened is beyond me … either I’m still growing at age 36, or she’s shrinking at age xx … but, we won’t go there.

She suggested that we stand back-to-back and get the boys’ [ever so scientific] analysis of who’s taller. We were both barefoot, and there was no doubting that my shoulders were higher than hers, perhaps even a half inch or more.

She mused aloud why this could be, and No. 5 nonchalantly answered, “Probably because Mom’s feet are so big. That means she’s taller.”

Ouch. Obviously. I guess I do tell them often about “how big & tall” they are getting, and it seems that they need new shoes and pants at the same time – and often – so it made sense to him that big feet = tall.

My size 10 feet and I shall meekly leave the room now. (They used to be size 11, but somehow my feet shrunk when I lost all that weight! I should take that as some consolation, right?)