I’ve always congratulated myself on not having unrealistic expectations, of not putting people in a box that limits who they are and what they will become.

For some reason, though, God uses my own children to show me that I probably do this more than I should. Take for example, my dear three year old son. I never imagined he would be indifferent towards words. He learned his letters over a year ago, but has never expressed much of an interest in what they’re for. He doesn’t like me to track the words as I read (run my finger under the text to show where I’m getting the spoken words from). Last night, however, I told my husband about David’s increasing fascination with numbers. He wants to practice counting, he has been looking for speed limit signs, he’s noticing numbers on food packages, price labels, and clothing. Harumph! How boring. What can you do with numbers? But words… Those are where life can reside. I say this tongue in cheek. My son is different than I am. He’ll learn to read in his own time. I can choose to follow his interest, or I can stubbornly push him into my interests, what I value.

We’ve been doing “school” while Bethel is taking a morning nap. Usually it’s playing Memory, or using scissors and markers, or doing simple worksheets that he’s interested in. Today he pulled out a pad of paper and wanted to write. So I started to make some letters for him to copy. Would you believe that this silly boy asked for numbers instead? Why? But his delight upon successfully drawing ones all over his page made me remember again that I need to let my son be the person God made him to be, instead of what I think he should be. It’s a silly thing, numbers or letters. How I respond to this little thing may very well give me the start I need to let him be his own person in years to come.

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