Thing One had his ten-year well visit this week, and he's now up to 90 pounds, which is frightening. I should add that neither child has an ounce of fat on him and both sink like rocks in the pool: they are just solid walls of boy. And if those online calculators that predict eventual adult height from boys' heights at age two plus their parents' heights are to be believed, Thing One should top out at 6'4" or so and Thing Two won't be far behind. Ye gods and little chickens. Considering how much they eat and how big they are already, my grocery bills will be absolutely through the roof in a few years.
Tonight, I watched Thing Two gallantly shepherd another, much smaller friend through the parking lot at the gym, one arm thrown protectively around her shoulders. It was very cute, although I knew better than to say that to him. I was glad to see that he is capable of putting his size to good use when he's actually paying attention to his surroundings: the friend came off a lot better than the soccer coach from their respective encounters with him. With great size comes great responsibility, or something like that. A lesson for both of my boys to learn sooner rather than later!