Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Everything I needed to know I learned from my children.

My little guy likes to read. He is an exceptional reader and he has an exceptional desire to read. I absolutely adore this quality. I too adore reading and think that passion is what propelled me through years and years of higher education. So we encourage reading. We do not set a timer for our required 20 minutes each day as our teacher suggests. The timer would simply interrupt his reading. He always exceeds 20 minutes. 


He reads after church.  

December 2009
 He reads on vacation by the pool.

Summer 2010 {goggles optional}

He reads in my office on a rainy weekend.

Fall 2010
He reads and reads and reads. I keep a fully stocked library to both inspire and quench his pedantic reading habit. As I said, I adore this quality and know it will serve him well in life.

So my heart broke today when our eye doctor proclaimed that my little guy is farsighted. No way, I shout {internally . . .  I think}. The very kind eye doctor went on to explain that it is hard for him to read or keep his place on the page because one eye is not keeping up with the other. 

Farsighted?! I thought only old people were farsighted. How can my little guy be farsighted?! Farsightedness doesn't even make sense to me {I've been nearsighted since the late - very late - 70s.  I get nearsightedness, but the thought of farsightedness conjures visions of bifocals in my head}.

At first I was simply crestfallen. But he loves to read, I thought. And he is a good reader. A very good reader. He does not complain of headaches as she suggested. He certainly does not have a problem reading or keeping his place on the page. Certainly she is wrong. 

But then I realized: this changes nothing. My little guy likes to read. He may need glasses but this is not a game changer. He simply needs reading glasses -- glasses only for reading. And he is ecstatic at the proposition of getting glasses. His own pair of glasses. And the eye doctor cannot be wrong -- this was not a subjective test -- there were computers and other fancy equipment involved in this diagnosis. 

So we hopped over to the local optical outlet and purchased a new pair of glasses. He picked out glasses with an orange racing stripe. Because orange is his favorite color. 

{And, as it turns out, when you are not completely blind like me, they actually make your glasses in under an hour. Never in my life have I had a pair of glasses made in under an hour. Never. My glasses require a special high-tech material so they do not look like coke bottles. I kid you not. And even with the special material it is still quite hideous. Elementary friends, please stop snickering}.   

So my little guy now wears reading glasses. I explained again on the way home that he did not need to wear them anywhere except at home. The doctor was not concerned about the amount of reading he does at school {so intermittent she said}. But he should wear them when reading for any length of time or when on the computer.

Tonight he got dressed for his cub scout meeting and came down . . . wearing his glasses.

You don't need to, I remind him.

I want to, he informs me.

Wants to. Wear glasses. It's me who doesn't want to wear glasses. Not him.

I do not know why I am continually amazed by my children and the amazing sense of self they seem to possess. Why is my self-consciousness {dating all the way back to the late, very late, 1970s} creeping into my head? My little guy looks darling in his glasses and he wants to wear them all the time. He has not a drop of insecurity in his 52 pound body. In fact, he is proud of his glasses.


I'm proud too -- of him and the lessons he teaches me!!

Word of the week: pedantic

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