I am of median height, yet have always felt under privileged in the tallness dept. .... I truly feel I should have grown to be 5'42"..... Because I did not adequately achieve the stature of my inner self, I have a slight Napoleon complex… All tall friends are required to accommodate my need for climbing higher than they are to give & receive a hug.
A few decades ago, when the idea of music & speaking with in vitro infants was new, I had the idea that perhaps by communicating to a gestating babe I could influence their altitude potential. I would identify myself as their adopted Aunt & explain that they must not grow taller than me. This practice amused the mother to be & often received laughter from nearby onlookers. I was not discouraged, all innovative scientific ideas seem silly in the beginning & this hypothesis would take quite a while to see its evidential conclusion. The long & short of it is that my experiment seemed to have merit, until… Two lady friends due at the same time (unknown to each other) had allowed me to converse with their extended bellies. Each lady was partnered with a gentleman of a disproportionately towering nature. When at last I met each decanted newborn, I introduced myself again & was met with recognition. It is true that the growing fetus will remember voices that it hears often. I reiterated that they must not grow taller than me. Imagine my surprise when their response was quite literally to laugh at me. Not one, but two infants were whole heartedly amused by my (I’ll admit, selfish) ploy. To my lasting chagrin, I knew I must abandon the supposition of verbal influence for genetic modification of height.
However dismally the experiment had failed, there were a few bright morsels of success. As a side benefit of this verbal experiment, when the children were born they all showed definite signs of genetic influence from me. Every one of them had inherited my round cheeks & often some other trait as well. (In fact one child with whom I had spoken to quite often looks like he should be my son…) AND that communicating with wee folk has lasting effects…. This seemed the perfect opportunity to enlist these beautiful cherubs into my future. In addition to speaking with nascent zygotes, I endeavored to win the trust of each rug rat. I played ‘up in the air’ & ‘what are you doing upside down?’ (which has the extra added benefit of being an excellent cardio vascular exercise…) with the ankle biters until they saw me as a great source of amusement. I would greet them with “Hello Short Person”. **
Once they have reached the house broken stage (out of diapers & enough manual dexterity to hold a dirty dish to clean it) I would make a proposition to each one. “If I let you grow taller than me, you must become an art patron when you are an adult with a career.” With a parental witness I would shake hands to seal the deal. In this way I am growing my own patrons.
**(or Hello Short People if it were a crowd) Astonishingly & unanimously they objected to being called short. Often snapping “I am not short.” To which I countered “You are shorter than me, so that makes you short since I am the national median…” We had many a verbal dispute upon the subject of shortness & the epithets thereby related. The most endearing exchange came from an angry young boy. He would blow up every time I greeted him with “Hello Short Person”. But without being able to disprove his shortness, our banter would come to a stalemate. I am so proud of the day he replied ever so sweetly “Hello Little Person”. He was the first to dissolve his anger with a humorous retort. Soon however these diminutive humans were competing to find other synonyms for short… Shrimp, & Speck being two of the meanest from one particular girl (now an Amazon & future art patron … Holly also has the honor of finding the loophole in our handshake agreement.)
A few decades ago, when the idea of music & speaking with in vitro infants was new, I had the idea that perhaps by communicating to a gestating babe I could influence their altitude potential. I would identify myself as their adopted Aunt & explain that they must not grow taller than me. This practice amused the mother to be & often received laughter from nearby onlookers. I was not discouraged, all innovative scientific ideas seem silly in the beginning & this hypothesis would take quite a while to see its evidential conclusion. The long & short of it is that my experiment seemed to have merit, until… Two lady friends due at the same time (unknown to each other) had allowed me to converse with their extended bellies. Each lady was partnered with a gentleman of a disproportionately towering nature. When at last I met each decanted newborn, I introduced myself again & was met with recognition. It is true that the growing fetus will remember voices that it hears often. I reiterated that they must not grow taller than me. Imagine my surprise when their response was quite literally to laugh at me. Not one, but two infants were whole heartedly amused by my (I’ll admit, selfish) ploy. To my lasting chagrin, I knew I must abandon the supposition of verbal influence for genetic modification of height.
However dismally the experiment had failed, there were a few bright morsels of success. As a side benefit of this verbal experiment, when the children were born they all showed definite signs of genetic influence from me. Every one of them had inherited my round cheeks & often some other trait as well. (In fact one child with whom I had spoken to quite often looks like he should be my son…) AND that communicating with wee folk has lasting effects…. This seemed the perfect opportunity to enlist these beautiful cherubs into my future. In addition to speaking with nascent zygotes, I endeavored to win the trust of each rug rat. I played ‘up in the air’ & ‘what are you doing upside down?’ (which has the extra added benefit of being an excellent cardio vascular exercise…) with the ankle biters until they saw me as a great source of amusement. I would greet them with “Hello Short Person”. **
Once they have reached the house broken stage (out of diapers & enough manual dexterity to hold a dirty dish to clean it) I would make a proposition to each one. “If I let you grow taller than me, you must become an art patron when you are an adult with a career.” With a parental witness I would shake hands to seal the deal. In this way I am growing my own patrons.
**(or Hello Short People if it were a crowd) Astonishingly & unanimously they objected to being called short. Often snapping “I am not short.” To which I countered “You are shorter than me, so that makes you short since I am the national median…” We had many a verbal dispute upon the subject of shortness & the epithets thereby related. The most endearing exchange came from an angry young boy. He would blow up every time I greeted him with “Hello Short Person”. But without being able to disprove his shortness, our banter would come to a stalemate. I am so proud of the day he replied ever so sweetly “Hello Little Person”. He was the first to dissolve his anger with a humorous retort. Soon however these diminutive humans were competing to find other synonyms for short… Shrimp, & Speck being two of the meanest from one particular girl (now an Amazon & future art patron … Holly also has the honor of finding the loophole in our handshake agreement.)