My 10 year old son is small. Since kindergarten, he has been the oldest and the smallest in his class.
One of the reasons that we chose a small, private school is because, for the most part, everyone knows each other. The parents understand that my son is not a typical child and many of them have discussed his differences with their own children. It has created an atmosphere where my son is comfortable and where the kids are, mostly, kind to him. (Note to the three boys who make fun of my child: You’re going to want to knock that off, m’kay?)
Each year we have an influx of families who have never met my son and some of them are surprised when they find out he is 10 years old. Of course, adults do a much better job of hiding their shock than kids do and it isn’t uncommon for a new student to ask my boy how old he is and upon hearing the answer to say, “Wow. You’re little for 10!”
I recently overheard a boy say this to him, so the other night I casually mentioned it while making dinner. I picked up his 48 pound frame, placed him on the kitchen counter and said, “I know kids sometimes tell you how small you are. What do you say to them?”
He replied, “Well sometimes I say, ‘I know I’m small. People come in all different shapes and sizes.’”
I went on with my cucumber cutting and nodded. “Good answer.”
He continued, “And, sometimes I tell them that I really like being short because when I walk along the creek with Daddy, I don’t have to duck when we go under the little bridges.”
For that, my boy got a high-five. What he lacks in size, he makes up for in logic.