A Little More Than Five

My dad liked me best I think when I was five, and I used to ask him how he got so tall, how he knew so much about how to throw a baseball, and how to dance with me on his feet, clinging joyfully to the backs of his knees. I know I haven't grown since then but I can look him in the eye now, and our hands are identical. He asks me how I got so tall even though I know I haven't grown since then.