Jonathan, my middle child, graduated from high school last May. He’s 6’3 and 190 pounds, but it seems like yesterday that he was scampering into my bed to escape the rumble of a thunderstorm.
When Jonathan was a child, his imagination was off the charts. Even though he didn’t read until 3rd grade, he was inquisitive, insightful and an impressive communicator. I always figured school would be a breeze for him. But it wasn’t. At least not in the way I thought it should be. Not because he wasn’t smart or intuitive or creative, but because of my own rigid view of how I thought he should be.