This boring old dreary-rainy Monday morning, I grabbed my son's hand to warm up my hands (I regularly use them for supplemental heat), and I noticed it felt a little different.
So, we took a moment to do something that is not-so-unusual around here: we measured hands.
He did a double-take. I froze. It has happened. I have a child whose hand is as big as mine.
I do not have small hands.
His basketball coach is very happy with his hands; his piano teacher is so excited she stumbles over her words. His mother?