Tonight, numbers made me realize that I need to respect his pace and his interests. What may be easier for me might be something he struggles with. Fearing that he might be teased by other kids (and adults), I kept pushing him to spell his name, but keep in mind, I have a three-year-old, not a seven-year-old. It’s not a proud moment when I want to teach him something and we both get frustrated — he starts squeezing himself into my arms as if embarrassed that he can’t do what I’m asking him to do.
“Do you want to do numbers instead?”
A small “yes” was his reply. I let him sit on my tummy. “Do you even know what 1 plus 1 is?” I rolled my eyes, not expecting him to know the answer.
“Two.”
“1 plus 2?”
“Three.”
He had his head down. I underestimated how smart my kid is.
“1 plus 3?” I continued to test him.
“Four.”
“1 plus 4?” I had a small smile on my face now. A bit ashamed of myself for not knowing better.
He now had a grin on his face probably proud of himself for knowing that he, once again, taught me something.
“Five!!!”
