I am taking a small break from talking about the Rhett Walker Band concert to join my friends with Five Minute Friday. Make sure you come back tomorrow and Sunday to see the rest of the story!
The idea is to write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
Today’s prompt: SMALL
They were really concerned with his size about a week before he was born… I wondered if I should be concerned, but his dad is short so I figured he would take after him.
When he was the same size for three years’ worth of doctor visits, I began to get worried like the doctors. I mean, that curve on the growth chart is supposed to curve a lot more right? But then the nurse looked at Big Girl, looked at me, and then asked the most important question: how tall is his dad?
Well, his dad didn’t want any of it. He had been teased and ridiculed for being the shortest boy on the team or in the classroom and he wanted different for his Little Man.
But he has always been small. At eleven, people ask how old he is and then ask “really?” with an incredulous look on their face. They can’t believe he isn’t younger than he says he is.
It bothers him, no doubt. Like in second grade when all the girls told him they wouldn’t dance with him at the Cinderella ball because he was too short. Or when people call him names like “small fry”. It bothers him, no doubt… but he has an unbelievable personality just the same.