When you think you’re saying what everyone’s thinking…

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This is just a reminder than when you THINK you’re “just saying what everyone’s thinking,” you’re probably only saying what people like you are thinking. Which, if you’re in the majority and/or a position of authority, means that the people surrounding you are thinking it, saying it, doing it, and passing laws about it. And “it,” whatever “it” is, is very possibly hurting other people.

And sometimes what you think everyone else is thinking is thrust into an audience larger than the one you normally surround yourself with, and you wind up with hostile reactions to your TOTALLY hilarious rants about women, Native Americans, Gay people, Asian/Pacific Islander students or whatever else, and you find that no, not everyone enjoys spreading around harmful stereotypes and hate.

So, you know. Maybe think about what you’re doing and whether your totally hip and edgy humor is actually challenging anything or just rehashing the same old crap and actively doing harm to people who aren’t you.

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At least he’s not a T-Rex

I have short arms.

I mean, I’m short all over, so I don’t have a very long reach, and it’s not like my arms are INCREDIBLY short, but it’s hard to find shirts that fit. In general, unless I get 3/4 length sleeves, the cuffs come down to my knuckles.

My best friend calls me T-Rex, or “T” for short, and mocks me for having tiny, ineffectual T-Rex arms. Which is totally unfair because her name STARTS WITH A T so I can’t refer to her as “T” even though that is her initial, because she has cruelly decried MY nickname to be “T” because I have stumpy arms.

Sometimes I lie and tell people I’m called T-Rex because of my insatiable appetite for raw meat, and supernumerary teeth (NOTE: I actually have supernumerary teeth. Or had. They were pulled when I was younger. They did not grow back, like shark teeth do, THANK GOD). People… only believe me about half the time.

ANYWAY, Niko is 24 months old (TWO!!!!! HE IS TWWOOOOOOOO!) and 2T sized onesies are too short for him, and 2T pants are a bit snug around his tummy, and even though he’s got a tiny head 2T sized shirts sometimes get stuck on his melon, so we went out and got a bunch of 3T sized clothing.

The pants are all too long.

Little dude is in the 75th percentile for height, and his pants are too long.

“It’s like he’s got stumpy little legs or something,” I opined to my beloved husband.

“Oh,” he said. “He takes after me, then. And my dad. And my brothers. Long, lean torsos; short and stumpy legs. We are practically deformed. Sorry.”

I haven’t spent a great deal of time observing my male in-law’s physiques, but let me tell you, Nesko is nothing short of perfect. So I don’t accept the “deformed” rhetoric. But yeah, his very fine legs aren’t as long as they could be, and he does have a problem with shirts not being quite long enough.

Stumpy legs it is. My child has stumpy legs.

Now to see if he also has stumpy arms and extra teeth.

Sorry, kid.

Puberty is going to kick your ass.

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