#25: A Letter that My Son Can Read 6
Dear Miles,
Every day, you do something that makes me proud of you.
You dress yourself, and I swell with pride over your independence. You write your name, and I marvel at the fact that your small hands were once so teeny tiny that they could barely have gripped a crayon. You smile, you giggle, you play, you befriend, and I am simply proud to be the woman you call “Mommy.”
I try to make myself proud too.
In fact, for my birthday this year, I created a list of 29 things I want to do before I turn 30. One of those goals was to teach you how to read.
I thought we’d make each other proud–me, carefully showing you how the letters came together to make words and the words came together to make sentences, and you, finding your way slowly through those letters, words, and sentences.
But then you did something that astounded me.
Something that continues to make me joyfully, exceedingly proud.
You started reading. Fluidly. Fluently. Seemingly all on your own.
You are four years old, and you are reading.
I’m not exactly sure how much or what sort of credit I can take for this accomplishment.
Did I really teach you how to read?
Yes, I started reading to you even in those first few weeks of your infancy. Yes, you’ve seen me (and your father) reading books, magazines, and newspapers galore. And yes, I’ve helped you sound out and identify the occasional word or two (or twenty) over the past few months. I’ve even stood by with a mixture of bemusement, wonder, and exasperation as you insisted upon memorizing the entirety of Neil Gaiman’s The Wolves in the Walls
But now I know that you aren’t simply mock-reading. You’re not just listing off a few words and sentences that you’ve memorized in your favorite books.
You. Are. Reading.
And you’re reading everything.
You read books. You read your favorite books, those ones with the worn and cracked spines. You read new books, ones you’ve never seen before. You read street signs, cereal boxes, and DVD cases. You read the silly words on your t-shirts and the silly color names on your crayons and you make me so, so proud with every word you utter.
And my pride is matched only by my excitement for you.
Miles, do you know what this world of words has in store for you?
You are going to find words that will keep you up all night. Words that will find you under your covers with a flashlight so that you can just finish that one last chapter in the book you can’t put down.
You are going to find words that will break your heart–ones whose melancholy isn’t because of the sad story they tell but because of sheer poetic beauty that they contain.
You are going to find words that make you laugh, and words that make you cry.
You are going to find words that teach you something, and words that make you want to ask more questions.
Your mind, your imagination, your heart, and your soul are going to be blown away by all of these words, my sweet boy.
And me? I’m just proud to be the woman who can continue to stand back and watch you discover these words. All on your own.
Love,
Mom
