Imagine the World’s smallest dwarf that’s in the Guinness Book of World’s Records, add an inch, and that’s how tall Jaya is. I know you shouldn’t make fun of people’s height, but I can’t help but to laugh when she’s on her tippy-toes trying to grab the car keys or a cell phone off the night stand that’s in our living room, and no matter what she does or how hard she tries, she just can’t get them. So she turns and looks at me with those big-brown eyes, tears welling up because some inconsiderate a-hole, meaning me, has tossed them up there haphazardly and they’re mere centimeters from her reach and now she’s looking at me for help. So I get up from my blue Lazy-Boy, make the journey of three steps, which would take her ten, and I push the items even further away.
She looks up at me in shock and disgust as I spin on my heals and walk back to the Lazy-boy. I then fling out the foot rest and I prop my legs up and get back to my newest episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.
Arrrggghhhhhh! she screams as her face turns beet-red and then she hobbles into the kitchen to get her stool. But once she get there she doesn’t actually move the stool, she just looks at it and seems to drift into thoughts of what she would do if she was bigger. She puts her finger on the top step and runs it back-and-forth as if she’s stroking the potential power of being tall.
Jaya often falls when she walks. She usually gets back up, but sometimes she sits there and seems to think about it, like, Maybe if I use these little arms to balance me…,but then a piece of dirt or food on the floor catches her attention and she looks to see if I see her grabbing at it, which of course I do, but I immediately turn my head away but still side-eye her as I see the look in her eye that says, Hey slob! You know I can’t vacuum this floor myself or I otherwise I would. Come on! But since she doesn’t actually say anything, I do nothing about the situation.
Sometimes Jaya smells like poop. What kind of person doesn’t notice that smell? I know it’s her little arms and lack of motor skills that doesn’t allow her to wipe her own ass, but I can’t help to ask, “Did you poop or something?” I already know the answer without her answering, so I go and turn on the bath water for her and take her to her changing table and even though I know what little treasure’s waiting for me, I can’t help but say, “Ewwwwww! Stinky-butt!” And as she’s laying there patiently waiting for me to fix this little problem, I can’t help but laugh when I take off her diaper and she chirps like a little song bird and says, “Hi! Hi Da-da! Hi-bye!”