The other morning, Uncle (driver of the kindy bus) asked, “was Miles like her as a baby?”  Like what?, I wondered.  “So…bulky?”

Yeah, she’s pretty sturdy.  Her feet are tall, puffy pillows that she cruises along on, her legs pillars of insulation that end in a white rubberband of an ankle that never sees the light of day.  She carries a spare tire on each thigh where it joins the hip, and her bottom is reminiscent of so many renaissance models.  She maintains a comparatively trim torso, but her arms are soft and squeezable.

I’m proud of her size, and disappointed I can no longer take full credit.  Hazel inhales anything put in front of her, meals are easily the size of Miles’ bowl.  Rock it, sister!

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