A Short Story.

Today's post is in line with my new resolution to try and write something every day. Sometimes these posts may be rather short. The word 'short' is entirely apt for today, because I shall be talking about height.

I am not a tall person, and that does not bother me in the slightest. Hah! This from a man who never tells lies. Blimey O'Riley! That's two lies in quick succession.

My extremely handsome son George in his best bib and tucker.

There has been a slight concern in my mind, that my extremely handsome son George, might be shorter than me, once he attains adulthood. I cannot explain why I have had this concern. It certainly has never bothered him that he is usually the shortest lad among his mates. In fact he believes that being short in stature is a positive thing, particularly in the gym and on the football pitch.

Sitting on the bench he helped to make, which has since been undermined by rabbits. Hence the notice.

Lately I have noticed that he seems to be catching up heightwise with some of his friends, and perhaps he is no longer the shortest. This pleases me.

We were walking together along the pavement today, my extremely handsome son George and I, when he suddenly put his arm across my shoulder, and hugged me to him. Nothing unusual in this, he is a very loving boy. Takes after his dad in that respect. But do you know what he said, as he hugged me? He said:
"How are you doing little man?"

Yep, today my boy is taller than his dad. I'm pleased about that.