Miguel: Uy, Carla! Ready ka na ba for New Year’s Eve? I’m telling you now—this year, I’m jumping the highest. Para sure na tatangkad pa ako kahit two inches man lang.
Carla: Two inches? Mig, you’re 27. Your bones have closed shop already. The growth plates are sealed. No more height upgrades.
Miguel: Hindi ah! Last year I jumped like crazy. Feeling ko nga I grew a bit.
Carla: Feeling mo lang ’yon. You probably just bought shoes with thicker soles.
Miguel: Hindi talaga. My aunt said it worked for her cousin’s daughter. She jumped every New Year’s Eve for three years and now she’s one of the tallest in her class.
Carla: Miguel… she probably inherited tall genes. Her parents are giants. That’s not jumping—that’s genetics doing its job.
Miguel: Eh paano ’yung pinsan ko? He said he forgot to jump in Grade 6, tapos he stayed short. Coincidence ba ’yon?
Carla: Yes. Pure coincidence. Or baka he just didn’t drink milk because he was too busy playing DOTA. Height doesn’t wait for jump schedules.
Miguel: But it’s tradition, Carla! Every Filipino kid jumps at midnight. It’s practically part of our childhood. Kahit ikaw, you did it, right?
Carla: Oo naman. I jumped so hard once, I hit the ceiling fan. That’s when I realized—science is safer than superstition.
Miguel: But don’t you think it’s fun? Like, what if it works? Wala namang mawawala.
Carla: Fun, yes. Effective? Not really. Look, height mostly depends on genes, nutrition, hormones, and sleep. Jumping at midnight won’t suddenly trigger your pituitary gland like a New Year’s special promo.
Miguel: Ewan ko sa’yo. You’re too rational. Minsan you need magic in your life.
Carla: Magic? The only magic I want is extra holiday pay. But I’m not stopping you. Jump ka lang. Just don’t expect gravity to change its mind for you.
Miguel: Fine. But if I get taller next year, I’m taking a victory selfie beside you. Para may proof.
Carla: Sure. And if you don’t get taller, you owe me milk tea for all the years you believed in this.
Miguel: Deal. But I’ll still jump. Nothing wrong with trying.
Carla: Agreed. Jump for joy, jump for fun—just don’t jump for biology.
Miguel: Tsk. Killjoy. Pero sige. At least I know you’ll be there cheering me on.
Carla: Cheering? No. Laughing? Absolutely.
Miguel: Kahit ano pa—this year, I’m jumping the highest. Who knows? Baka 6 feet na ako by January 1.
Carla: Miguel, if you hit six feet overnight, I’ll start jumping with you next year.
Miguel: Aba! Noted! Prepare your jumping shoes!
Carla: Prepare your disappointment.
Miguel: We’ll see. Height destiny awaits!
Carla: Sige, destiny. Just don’t break the floor when you jump.
Both friends laugh, the teasing continuing with warmth as they walk home—one convinced he’ll gain height, the other convinced he’ll gain another funny story to tell next year.
Science Vs Superstition 
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