Measure Treasure

I'm ordering halloween costumes online and I need to measure Micah to see which size he falls into.

I find the measuring tape and begin circling his tummy. Then his hips. I pull it out and run it from toussled blonde hair to dirty toes. All the time I'm muttering tiny numbers to myself. "14," I mumble. "Hm, that looks like a 16 right here." My words are barely audible, "...and 21 inches here."

I scribble the needed numbers down on paper and leave the measuring tape out to be found by pudgy hands searching, always searching, for a new toy.

He follows my actions as he meanders through the house mumbling made up numbers under his breath as he stretches the measuring tape out to ascertain the length of various objects.

Busy with my task at hand, I'm continuing to search through costume websites and so I hardly notice when he's suddenly upon me. He pulls the tape up my thigh and across my arm. I wait for the number I am to be given. He studies the marks on the tape, looks up at me, and announces his latest measurement: "big."