Today you are 88 months old. I think. I skipped writing the last couple of months.
This is in part because I am busy. But mostly because, I guess, I don't think I have anything wise left to say.
We've continued with the very expensive and time-consuming dyslexia tutoring.
|Q and U stick like glue, and other fun things from the Orton-Gillingham method.|
I still don't know why, for the love of god, the education system can't just do this with you in school.
You won a "major award" at the November assembly for being "hard working" and "committed to learning," or something vague like that. All the kids earn an award once per year. These people don't know the half of it, how hard you work and how committed you are to learning. Puh-leeeeeeeze.
Oh, we had the election since I wrote last, too. When you woke up on November 8th, your face and eyes were bright and shining, and you said, "It's Hillary's big day!"
We can stand and fight, for whatever that's worth. Or we can run and hide.
My first instinct, as always, was for campfire.
Eventually we came home, and there was snow.
|On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.|
To be quite honest, these days, I am surprised that the sun still rises.
William, I will continue to do everything I can for you, no matter what happens next. I am so glad that you are so much braver and stronger and wiser than me.