One Letter at a Time

The other day my youngest son asked his brother what something spelled. He read the letters in his distinct voice and asked, what does OPEN spell?

I was driving, and my habit is to usually not see what they are seeing. Their perspective, in the backseat, is not mine. I regularly respond to their, “Daddy, what is that?” with “Son, I can’t see what you’re seeing right now. I’m driving.”

That is so much of life, isn’t it? Not seeing what someone else sees. Not sitting in the posture of another’s position. Not being able to shift perspectives. Not having empathy.

My little boy has caught on to this regularly enough. He’ll ask his bigger brother a question he may have tried with me.

The other thing is, my son was showing me evidence of his learning. I nearly missed it in that moment. I was amused that he was asking his brother a question. I turned toward the sound of voice. I appreciated that he knew how to ask a good question in order to find answer.

I almost missed that he’s learning how to read one letter at a time, one word at a time. He’s been learning but much that learning resides inside his little frame. I saw a glimpse of it!

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