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Unmeasured Behaviour

When experience overshadows blind enthusiasm...

“Buddy, what’s the rush?”

After gleefully claiming that he’s grown yet again, for the umpteenth time in the past two weeks, we once again checked his height against his previous measurement on the family growth chart next to the fridge.

“Nope. Still the same,” I advised my almost eleven-year-old son.

“But Dad, I must have grown,” he whined with disbelief, “I’m going through puberty.”

Knowing full well that he is not, I indulged his delusion.

“Why do you think that?” I blankly asked.

“Because I’ve been so darn moody lately,” he matter-of-factly replied.

Now, I know I should not have said what I said, or have done what I did after that, but I did not have kids because I felt the need to leave a legacy, or for any other procreation-type or spiritual reason. My kids exist for the sole purpose of my entertainment, or so I have informed them when they get a bit too cheeky. In addition, since the other parental unit or any other woman wasn’t around, I proceeded knowing that I would escape scrutiny of both of my highly questionable and inappropriate antics.

“Moody?” I deadpanned. “Are you growing a vagina too?”

He smiled and said no, but without any hesitation, he proudly countered, “But my thing is getting bigger.”

I quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see me trying to contain my laughter. And in that moment, a flash of brilliant evil dad inspiration struck.

The next morning, I mischievously induced his delusions and commented that he looked taller. I implied that maybe he had a growth spurt during the night. My son’s face lit up with delight.

“Really?!? Do you really think so?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s measure you.”

I didn’t have to ask or mention it twice. He was against the wall chart before I could.

“Sorry, bud. It doesn’t look like it,” I informed the disappointed boy. “I guess I was wrong.

I then asked him to turn sideways, which he did. It took a few moments before he noticed the length of green painter’s tape that I had attached to the wall, at about his crotch height, extending perpendicular from the growth chart.

“Daaad!” his younger sister screamed as we all howled with laughter.

It’s been a week since he mentioned puberty. Good. Take your time. You have the rest of your life to be an adult.

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