When I wasn't looking--maybe it was while I was busy transitioning Topher from womb to delivery room--The Boss turned solid and grew long legs.
She's been a baby her whole life. That's only two years and ten months, but it's what I'm accustomed to. She started out small--a round repository of fat cells beneath pale skin--and grew so stealthily that I failed to notice when muscle moved in and her face colored with the blush of ideas. Until her brother came along in comparison, I couldn't see how much she'd grown.
The other day, I was folding a mass of laundry that had been piling up in the wake of Topher's arrival and subsequent hospitalization. After stacking romper after romper, onesie after onesie, I pulled a pair of The Boss's pants from the bin. The jean material seemed voluminous. I looked at the tag. They were 2T, a size that I knew--conceptually, anyway--was actually a bit too small for her. Emotionally, I still didn't get it. As I put them aside to be packed away with all the other outfits-turned-artifacts, I puzzled over the discrepancy.
When did she grow into them?
And just when did she grow out?
The Boss 4 days ago