M - i - crooked letter, crooked letter, i . . ..

This is a pic that depicts our nighttime routine - each kid's face depicts their character and Kenny in the middle of it all - I love it.

I was reading my kids the children's book, If You're So Smart, Why Can't You Spell Mississippi the other night. I never know what books we'll bring home from the library. We rush in - all 4 of us - everyone grabs 5-10 books each, I take Lanie to the bathroom at least 3 times, and Lydia plays with some of the toys until I finally heave the books onto my shoulder and make it to the check-out desk. We get home with our hoard, and at night divide up Lanie's books and put them in her room and then, the moment I relish. I LOVE to lay all the new books out, ones I didn't even know got put in the bag, and have them each choose 1 or 2 to read. It seems the older they get, the longer the stories are, the longer bedtime is drawn out - but that's another story.

So, I grab this one and read it and it's about a girl who can't believe her very smart dad can't spell Mississippi. Come to find out, it's a book about dyslexia. This brought on all kinds of questions. "Do you have dyslexia, mom?" "Do I?" "I have 170 AR points mom, I'm a good reader." "I can spell Mississippi without looking" This of course, let me to tell them the "cool" way to spell it - but then, "what's a crooked letter?" "Why is it a humpback?"

The girl in the story goes to the library (love the plug!) and talks to her dear librarian about finding a book about famous people who had dyslexia. As she goes through the very long list, she comes up one this quote from William James . . .

"Do every day or two something for no other reason that its difficulty."

I love it. I had to think about the quote for a while. I took the book to my desk and laid it there so I could. I don't have any experience with dyslexia, except for teaching a few kids who had dealt with it. I wondered - How often do I fail at doing things for their difficulty? How easy to become lazy and do just enough of what you know. But then, Elijah called me name in that "mommmmmeeeee" voice "I caaaannnnn'tttt ssslllleeeeeepppp" and I trudged myself back in the room ready to be bombarded with his a million questions a night. And while I'm not scaling walls, building bridges, or even attempting the difficult level of Suduko, being a parent provides all kinds of "difficult" choices, just because they know doing the difficult thing (for me, stopping my homework in the midst of a lesson, answering my son's questions without being angry, rubbing his back while balancing on the edge of the bunkbed, and singing a sweet song) is a blessing.