Air Finley

Last Friday was Finley’s six-month checkup. Like all the other checkups before, it consisted of the weighing and measuring of our little girl. And, like all the others before, it ended with a few needles finding their way into her little legs. To her credit, she took the shots like a champ and only cried a little bit.

Other than the promise of health via immunizations, the more notable news from the visit to Dr. Zimburean was related to the weight and measurement department. Finley weighed in at a healthy 17lbs, 10oz (80^th percentile) and measured 27-1/8 inches long (90^th) percentile. The latter measurement caused Dr. Z to comment that “she is very tall for her age.” Very tall for her age?

So I start calculating. If she’s 2 feet 3 inches at six months, and she’s grown a little over an inch each month, then she should be nearly three feet tall when she turns one. And, according to more outrageous daddy math, THAT would mean by the time she’s 15, she’ll be easily 6’-3” – 6’-5” tall (Give or take a few feet, but that has nothing to do with this ramble).

Suddenly visions of the WNBA begin to enter my realm. Of course, this flies against my Team USA softball plans and her pro golf career. But, it’s a little more realistic than my goal to see her be the first female quarterback in the NFL. Then again, at 6’-5”, she would have no problem seeing over the offensive line. Peyton Manning is 6’-5” and has a name that could work for a girl or a boy, too.

Of course, the shoe deal she gets will only help her modeling career. But, that’s only when she has time from her charity work and when she’s not busy saving lives at the hospital or saving the planet from greenhouse gases. And, if her momma had her way, there would be a ballet career and possibly a country music tour to throw in.

Ask Finley in a few years what she wants to be when she grows up and my guess is she would choose something along the lines of a princess/veterinarian. And, like all of us, those ideas of career goals change. I was going to be a detective and an oceanographer. No doubt, solving underwater crimes involving sea creatures. I changed my mind to journalism and pretty much stayed with that for most of my life.

It will be interesting to see what Finley will become. I’m sure there will be a few things she’ll try and decide not to continue. I have piano lessons and wrestling in my past. But there are also the things we dabble in. The things that we may not have seen all the way through, but still resonate in our lives. There’s all the time I spent in boy scouts and my five years in band. There’s a year or so in martial arts and the semester I spent in choir in college. And although I may regret not getting my Eagle Scout or a black belt, I apply many of the things I’ve learned from all of those endeavors into my life. And that’s really what it’s all about. Experience.

Finley may not like basketball. She may even hate it. She might not want to learn how to throw a curveball or work on her putting. She may care next to nothing about leading a receiver or laying down a bunt and that’s okay. I just want her to try it. Just once. She may find joy in sports or she may decide that it could ruin her nails. As long as she tries.

In the long run, I just want her to experience as many things as possible. If ballet trumps baseball, then so be it. If she’d rather dance than dribble, that’s okay too. She can do anything she wants and I’m here to let her know that. That doesn’t mean I won’t buy her a glove. And it certainly doesn’t mean she won’t play catch with her old man in the backyard when she’s home from saving the planet.