Beyond measure

Earlier this week Tom held up the yardstick next to Edith and realized that she was the taller, by a good inch or two.

"You're over three feet," he told her.

"No, I'm two. I'll be three on my birthday." For Edith there is only one relevant unit of measurement, and she knows where she ranks.

Those of us interested in other measurements looked up her height and weight in the Merck medical manual and discovered that after having spent most of her infancy and toddlerhood at the upper end of the scale, she now seems to be tracking at just about 50th percentile for her age. She certainly is shooting up and slimming down. Suddenly some of her 2T pants tend to leave a bit of ankle exposed, while her shirts, by contrast, are doing a somewhat better job covering her belly. Her limbs look lean and muscular, the baby fat largely gone. And here on the tail end of toddlerhood--many child development specialists call 2 years 9 months the official start of "preschool" age--she has indeed lost the toddle. She runs fast and confidently.

Our baby is growing up. Even if she thinks that that only happens once a year on May 5th.