Apples and Asparagus
by California Dreamer
Copyright© 2002 by California Dreamer
You may not be aware of this, but small boys are very cognizant of their physical features. Not so much their complete anatomy, but more the various weights and measures of bits and pieces.
I knew my height; Father marked my bedroom door post at random intervals. I knew my shoe size was large for my age, that I would grow as tall, possibly taller, than my father. I knew my hands were small, too small to span an octave on Mother's piano. My uncircumcised penis was one hundred and eighteen millimeters in length when erect. I also knew the circumference of my head at birth, thirty four centimeters.
I didn't understand the significance of this, except Father once called me, I believe he was refering to me in that instance, a big-headed little bastard. I don't believe he knew I was within the carrying distance of his voice, nor did I understand the significance of his words. A bastard I certainly was not; big-headed, I certainly was. I confirmed this by comparing my head to my peers. Mine was larger, by several centimeters to a dozen, depending upon the boy measured. I didn't ask any girls, therefore my hasty research may possibly be flawed, not that I felt much concern for this omission.
I didn't mind at all if my head were out of proportion with my body. I began learning to read at age four upon Father's knee. I learned music from my mother at an early age, tapping out Fur d'Elise with my right hand by the age of five. I felt that my large head would easily accomodate all the knowledge of the world, which I began accummulating as rapidly as possible by reading every book in Father's large library. I was now reading from the middle levels after starting with the lowest shelves.
My Father enjoyed football, and taught me to accurately kick balls at trees in the park. He asserted many times to me that a strong, healthy body assures a healthy mind. I believed him to be speaking the truth, as I believed all things he told me.
My concerns were minimal, my curiousities unbounded. I had friends, but shared little with them beyond the pleasures of chasing after a ball, and kicking it into a net. My teachers permitted my silent, private nature. My parents gave me gentle affection and respect; feeding my body in the dining room, my heart in the music room, my mind in the library.
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