Rage Against The Minivan

my poor, obese son who can’t go to kindergarten

Jafta just had his preschool graduation last week. I was a little cynical about the whole thing, because he’s not really “graduating” to anything, except for another year of the same. But his preschool has all the kids in the class participate in the ceremony, since it is the last year for some. I was a little annoyed at all of the obligations involved and thought it seemed a little superfluous for our family. Plus I just wanted to stay home that night and go to bed early. So I’m really not sure why I started BAWLING LIKE A BABY when he walked down the aisle with his class, and again when they handed him his non-graduating certificate of particiaption. Yikes. I don’t even want to see what I will look like when he graduates from high school. Hopefully my hormones will have evened out by then.

Jafta’s birthday falls just after the cut-off for starting school this fall, so he is getting an extra year of preschool while most of the kids in his class move on. He is pretty devastated by this fact. It’s not even that he is comparing himself academically, or sad that his friends won’t be in his class. He is just devastated that anyone could actually be older than him. He doesn’t get it. As the youngest kid in his entire class, Jafta is also the tallest. And in a four-year-old’s mind, it’s all about who is biggest. Learning that biggest does not necessarily mean oldest has been a difficult blow for him this week.
Which brings me to the obesity.

We took him to his yearly physical yesterday. Jafta is 95th percentile in height and weight for his age. The doctor also informed us that his BMI technicially makes him obese.

Awesome. My first thought is that I am now one of those moms of obese kids on the Maury Povich show. How did this happen? I’ve judged those mom for years! But the doctor quickly explained it is an anomoly because of his thick muscle mass. He is perfectly healthy, but some people are just naturally bigger. She used Shaq as an example.
So Jafta is less this:

And more so this:

Which is good, since I write for a mommy blog that encourages moms to feed their children nutritious foods. But not so good for my dream of being on the Maury Povich show. Perhaps I can get on one of Maury’s “Are You My Baby’s Daddy?” paternity episodes. Is it just me, or do Jafta and Mark look nothing alike?

Comments

  3. ~Erica~ says

    oh my gosh, I was cracking up so much on this post. Great one! Anthony was the same way, he was like 6'2" by age 9 or something. He is thicker in muscle mass. The blessings of being black! He will love it when he goes to the gym once and looks ripped when he is older. That is my husband's blessing that I do not have. He will work out for one hour and have rippling muscles the next day and won't go for another month and can do it all again. I hate that but oh wait..I love that. 🙂

  4. Lena Wright says

    Too funny. Thanks for sharing! My son is graduating from preschool in Haiti later this month. I am a big emotional mess about it-missing it-him growing up etc etc. So I understand.

  5. Brazenlilly says

    Maybe SHAQ is Jafta's real father. Well, clearly, only Maury can get to the bottom of this. I guess Jerry will do in a pinch.

    Great post!

  7. Jeri says

    As a teacher my experience has been that those who had fall birthdays were light years ahead of their peers as far as maturity and confidence. On the other hand, my poor little July birthday girl was literally carried around by her fall birthday peers. (I knew the day she crawled down the hall in her little uniform in April to my classroom that she was not ready for the rigorous kindergarten curriculum …sad that kindergarten is that hard, isn't it?) We gave her the gift of time to experience pre-k another year and have never regretted that choice. Today, she's going to be an 8th grader and I firmly do not see her in high school yet whatsoever. So, enjoy the gift and your 95 percentile son. Sooner than you'd think, he'll be walking across that stage and off to college. You just got a bonus year with your son!

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