A quick Jaxon anecdote to tickle the funny bone first thing this chilly morning.
Last night, while ushering Jaxon to the back for bed (late, might I add--Jaxon managed to stay quiet enough that neither his father or I noticed the time slowly slipping into the 9 o'clock hour--we were mailing out our Christmas cards, letters and pictures try not to get too excited) we made a pit stop in the bathroom so I could wash his hands and face and brush his teeth. While I waited for the water to warm up, I put some paste on his toothbrush and set it aside. I busied myself with wetting down a washcloth when I became aware that Jaxon was standing on the very tippy-top of his tip-toes, trying to get a hold of the toothbrush.
The conversation went like this:
H: Hang on buddy, lets wash your face and manos [hands] first.
J: Ungghhh... unnngh (reaching)
(Jaxon rocks back onto the balls of his feet and looks up at me, then stands on his tip-toes again and slaps futilely at the counter top just short of the toothbrush. He fixes me with another stare and steps back)
J: Short, mom.
According to Mirriam-Webster:
Short \ˈshȯrt\ adjective:
1 a having little length; b not tall or high [Jaxon cannot reach his toothbrush, therefore Jaxon is short]
2 seeming to pass quickly [Jaxon has made great progress in just a few short years]