The Ups and Downs of Having Small Paws
One day I was helping a young girl with her piano practice and she complained that her hands were just too small. "It's okay," I reassured her. "Look, my hands are small, too." And I held out one little mitt. Her eyes went wide and she said, "wow." I mean, really - I just wanted her to understand that you can play piano with little hands, not gawk at them like I was part of some circus sideshow. But it's true, my hands are tiny. So tiny that my family likes to point them out to people who take one look at them and say, "aww ..."
Yes. Aww. At my hands. The hands that stopped growing three years ago. My sisters and mother take great joy in the fact that, although I'm taller than all of them, my hands are smaller and pudgier than theirs.
There is, however, something you should be aware of. These stubby fingers are where my invincibility lies. I have nearly broken my hand just trying to please my old violin teachers and reach as far as I could up the fingerboard, but at least my fingers can dance and make music even when they have trouble spanning one octave. Every word I type owes its thanks to their deftness and speed. I can draw pictures and write pretty letters that make people smile. I can drive a car!
I am also something of an expert when it comes to pulling weeds.
My ugly little hands can wipe away tears and smooth ruffled hair, guide even littler hands curled in fists around pencils, hold one end of a skipping rope, play slaps (that's an important one), create stories, and do lots of other useful things.
Let me just make myself clear.
Do not underestimate my small hands. Though I've had no occasion to try it as of yet, I'm sure they are also mighty useful when it comes to delivering a hefty slap.