Perfectly Petite

I know I've mentioned it before, but I think I'm due for a full-blown rant.  My child is petite.  Tiny.  Little.  Barely clinging to the fifth percentile. 

I know people mean well when they strike up a conversation in public about the adorable little peanut at my side.  And Punky's not shy and she loves the attention.  She happily smiles and giggles as they talk to her in baby tones and make crazy faces at her.  But eventually they turn to me and ask the dreaded question, "How old is she?"

I answer and prepare myself for any variation of the typical responses:

"Oh my, she's tiny!  I would have never guessed her age!"  Unless you do it for a living in a carnival, who gives a shit what you can guess?

"Wow... Was she premature?"  No, she arrived right on time and was 7.4 at birth...like it's any of your fricken business.

"Doesn't she eat for you?"  Holy hell, the child could double as a Hoover sucking up everything in sight.  Just try to sneak a bite of anything and see how fast she comes running.

And the one to push me right over the edge....

"I'm sorry, is she sick?"  Does she look sick?  Seriously, people.  Her cheeks are chubby and rosy, she has a little gut on her so it's obvious she's not starving, she's running around and climbing on everything in sight, she's happy and laughing and full of energy.  She looks sickly because she's... petite?

Then there are those that spare me the comment only to reveal their true thoughts in facial expressions.  This sucks even more since they usually walk away wondering without giving me the opportunity to debunk their bad ideas.

Most of the time these encounters don't bother me at all, but when I have the same conversation with person after person while shopping on a Saturday afternoon... it tends to get under my skin.  Okay, that time of the month may be a part of it...

At fourteen months old, my child is beautiful, healthy, active, thriving, and super smart.  She's just... little.  If you paid any attention to her mama you'd realize the apple didn't fall far from the tree... I mean, I'm barely 5'3" in sneakers.  It's obvious Punky won't be the next great female basketball star or anything... she stands a chance at jockey though...

Now back off and stop asking me rude, stupid questions.  It's getting harder to resist poking someone's eye out and I'm sure you don't want it to be you.

Rant over.