This is a common question for an adult to ask a youngster. And a common answer is for the child to signal their age with fingers extended on one hand. So, when a three-year-old looks an adult Little Person in the eye it’s no surprise the child asks, “how old are you?” The adult’s response, however, can’t be counted even with all fingers and toes.
Nonetheless, it’s the ideal time to teach a child that age is unrelated to size.
Young kids aren’t so much interested in the actual age as is in knowing whether I’m a kid ready to play with them in the sandpit. They intuitively know I’m not the same as them. I used to calculate the age of the parent in the vicinity and say something like this, “I’m old enough to be your mother.” Although now I have to say, “I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”
The child usually accepts my answer and moves on to something else. It’s the parents who cringe at the exchange. Take, for example, the mother and child riding with me on an elevator. This child discerned that I was an adult and said, “look mommy there’s a little grandma.” The mother was mortified and could not wait to exit at the next floor. I told the mother not to worry, I was used to children calling me little and added, “it’s the grandma part that hurts.”
The curiosity does not end with little children. Not so long ago, a nine-year-old girl in a kids’ church program asked me, “so just how old are you?” A typical question, but the timing was surprising given that she had known me for a year. I entered the danger zone and said, “so how old do you think I am?” Her answer, “NINETY!” In that moment, she elevated me from grandma to great grandma status. It also confirmed that children have no idea how to assess the age of adults. Thankfully, I am decades away from that milestone.
Now adults know that it’s impolite to ask an adult how hold they are. Right? Well, people with dwarfism know that you can’t count on people being polite. Over the years, many adults have asked me how old I am. How I answer depends on the situation. For example, when another passenger waiting in an airport lounge asked my age, I said to him, “are you planning to tell me how old you are?” He immediately realized the impertinence of his question and explained that he had a grandson with dwarfism and was interested in knowing if he had a “normal” lifespan. He didn’t really want to know my age, but wanted to know how long his grandson could expect to live. This was not a time for me to stand on etiquette, but rather an opportunity to allay his fears and help him understand that the answer lay in his grandson’s type of dwarfism.
This post was adapted from my 1988 book, Dwarfs Don’t Live in Doll Houses, coming soon as an e-book. Used print books are available on Amazon.com.
4 replies on “How Old Are You?”
Angela, around the time I hit 40-something, kids at school (especially those had seen or spent time in my area) would ask me how old I was. I would reply with the beginnings of a number, “four- (and cupping my hand over my mouth) finish the last part with a cough & a smile.”😉 Most would usually laugh and give me that “knowing” smile, before we proceeded with business at hand.
Just the few stories & interactions you related here, made me smile (and one nearly caused me to send my coffee in the wrong direction!🤣). L👀king forward to your upcoming book & blogs. 💞 ya, girl!😎
Thanks for making me smile this morning Mikal – especially your reaction when drinking your morning coffee. If you haven’t done it already, please subscribe to the blog so the posts deliver to your inbox on Monday mornings.
Yes, Angela, I remember when my niece asked you how old you were. Of course, you asked her how old she thought you were. You must have been pleasantly surprised to hear her delightful answer – “16”
Very risky to ask a child how old they think I am. One shocking answer came back as 90!