Some time ago in a group setting my three-year-old was acting as crazy in ways only he could pull off. As some point someone asked if he had a condition that seems impossible to those who know him well. Afterward someone close to us made a profound observation: it’s so easy to observe a child for a short period of time in one setting and apply a label that could stick for life.
That was a great reminder for me as a mother. Even though I share almost every day with my children I still need to intentionally guard against placing labels on them even in my mind.
My son doesn’t always seem like the studious type. More like a future construction crew member based on his attempt to decorate his new room with road mix.
Or rancher or mechanic based on the fact that his happiest places inside city limits are the livestock supply or tire store.
So I wasn’t expecting him to come to me a few weeks back requesting that I teach him to read. Not exactly a predictable request from a rough and tumble wild little boy.
But he can read. Not fluently. But consistently sounding out each letter as he slowly begins to blend words. And he’s still a three-year-old “boy’s kind of boy” as likely to get into a heated wrestling match as any of his contemporaries.
But his decision to read reflects the complexity of his personality. It’s also exactly the right move if he plans to spend a lifetime shaking up the construction, agriculture, or automotive industries. And while I’m not holding to any specific expectations for his future I think it’s safe to say he’s likely to shake things up a bit no matter where he lands in about 20 years.
And I’m pretty sure his little brother is plotting ways to keep up with his hero.
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