My son’s friends are bigger than me. They pound into the kitchen ransacking the pantry - dropping mud clods from their shoes and crumbs from their PowerBars. They’re a pack of gym-obsessed; hormone-fueled scavengers.
I go to the gym more now too—desperate to keep beating Henry at arm wrestling for just a while longer. We both laugh as our biceps strain and our eyes bulge but he’s gaining ground. My wife thinks Henry will be at least 5’ 11’’. It’s a good height we agree while thinking of the weeks we watched him hooked to tubes in the NICU.
I go to the gym more now too—desperate to keep beating Henry at arm wrestling for just a while longer. We both laugh as our biceps strain and our eyes bulge but he’s gaining ground. My wife thinks Henry will be at least 5’ 11’’. It’s a good height we agree while thinking of the weeks we watched him hooked to tubes in the NICU.
