My (Now) Big Boy

Ever since we let Collin in on the glory that is Star Wars (probably at too young an age, but oh well), he has been begging to ride the Star Wars ride at Disneyland. Alas, he's been too short. That happens when you were, perhaps, a little too little for Star Wars. We were given a brief reprieve from his begging when they closed it down for repairs a few months ago. However, the argument begs that all the "fun" stuff at Disneyland requires that you be, at minimum, 40-inches tall.

My friends, Collin is now 40 inches tall, as of our most recent trip. Oh, how we have been measuring him each and every time. He scurries over to the height sticks outside those rides every time and then skulks away ever-so-shy of the line. This time, this time, hooray! He makes it just by the hair on his chinny-chin-chin....or should I say on the top of his heady-head-head?

This was the hour-long wait for Space Mountain, his very first, real, serious, no-kidding, roller coaster. (I know I cut off the top of his head but the picture made me smile). No matter how much I prepared him for how fast it was going to go, I don't think I can put into words the look on his face when it stopped. I think he blinked more times in the first ten seconds than he has in his whole life, before he said, "that was really cool." Then he asked if it was a real rocket ship and wanted to go on it again immediately.

He decided however, that the Tower of Terror was not for him, as "saying goodbye to the real world," a-la Twilight Zone was a little too freaky for him. He said he wasn't scared, but that he didn't like it and would rather be in a rocket ship. Okay.

He did agree to stop growing now that he's tall enough for the Star Wars ride when it re-opens and that's fine by me because I took this picture of him sleeping last night because I always think he looks so weird when he sleeps and when I noticed his feet, I thought, my God, he looks like such a...BOY! Look at those things! They are boats! They aren't little baby chub things anymore. They are real, grown-up, people feet. What happened to him?

Oh well, I suppose he can get to 56 inches. That means he can ride everything. Then, that's IT! No more.

By the way, I had to pull the covers off to confirm that, indeed, my child was sleeping exactly the way that his mother does, diagonally across the entire bed, with one foot  pulled up to the other knee, the way that a flamingo stands. It's weird how much how children act like us in the strangest of ways. Yes, I'm a joy to sleep with. I take up the whole bed. Oh, and if you are wondering why his pillow is pulled halfway down his bed? It's because he says the pattern of the sheets needs to line up with the pattern on the pillowcase. I swear. As to why he's covered in sweat? Because he refuses to sleep without blankets, or pajamas, despite his inclination to have the equivalent body temperature at night to a roasting ham. And yes, those are still the pajamas that the hospital gave us the night he threw up all over the e.r. He thinks they are magic and insists on wearing them. All. the. time.