A happy mistake

I was having a conversation with a friend recently whose daughter is in the same pre-school as Asher. We were talking about how parents hold kids back in school so that they will be ahead of the game in their classes. In our school district, October 1 is the cut-off. Asher was born in November, so he is usually the oldest in his class. I’ll admit that I was happy he was on the older side but not because I thought he’d be at an academic advantage. It’s all about height. Life is tough for a short, introverted boy, and my people are not known for stature. If he’s a little bit older than the rest, maybe he won’t wrench his neck looking up at everybody. Maybe they won’t steal his lunch money on the playground if he’s got a few inches on them.

This friend of mine has a PhD. I mention this because I want to point out that she’s no dummy. I mention that because in the course of our conversation, she made a mistake that made me smile big. I told her that it was good for Asher to be older so that he could be tall for a Jew. She said, “But he might be tall, anyway. Gabriella is tall, right?” I smiled and let her observation sit there while she took that beat in the middle of the conversation to think about what she had said. It was such a beautiful mistake to make. My friends know that I am the biological mother, and the boys do look like me. But, people forget about the mechanics and just think of us as a family.

There are and will be many things that the boys inherit from Gabriella. While they don’t have her angular nose or her high cheekbones, there is no doubt that they are her children. Maybe it’s the fact that every time I try to take Levi out of the car or put on his coat, he’ll scowl at me and start screaming, “NOOOO!!! MOMMY DO IT!!! MOMMY DO IT!!!” Thanks a lot, kid. Mommy, he’s all yours.