|Oliver and Sophie, 2001|
We talk a lot about growth spurts here at Casa Crazy. Henry, now thirteen, has had a huge one and is one hair shy of being taller than both me and The Husband. I swear it happened overnight, and Oliver regularly exclaims and wonders when his growth spurt will happen (he's on the Swiss, short and stocky side, while Henry has the leggy, skinny body of my side of the family). Last night, Oliver and I climbed on Sophie's bed, where she lay on her side, buried under the covers, and I read aloud for about half an hour. Afterward, Oliver lay next to Sophie, up on one elbow, gazing into her face. She reached her tiny, tapered hands up to flutter over his face, and he closed his eyes and sighed. It feels so soft, he said, and he held Sophie's hand in his own, his fingers short and square, his hands still dimpled with boy-dirt under the nails. Look, I said, your hand is bigger than Sophie's, already! I knew this would please him as he's off-put by his brother's grandeur. Do you think Sophie will have a growth spurt? he asked. I told him that no, she probably wouldn't and that she probably wouldn't grow too much from here. Oliver sat up and said Why? That's weird, right? I told him that she really hadn't grown much in the last three years or so, and that I thought it had something to do with her disability. Oliver lay back down next to Sophie, his head touching hers and they looked at one another. I turned out the light and lay down myself, my arm over both of them, the light from the hallway a band across their faces, shadows on the wall.