The Left.

And no, I'm not talking politics.

It is becoming increasingly, and quite obviously clear that our preschooler is left-handed. He was only six months old when others (not I) began to observe that he would consistently reach with his left hand. As he began to feed himself his left hand was dominant. As the milestones crept by and finger food turned into utensils and block sorting games turned into crayons, marker and scissors, the predominance of his left hand persisted.

I didn't make much of it. In fact, it was never me who noticed. Hands are hands, and I knew enough to know that at this age, anything goes. But, while I encouraged the right hand, knowing that there was a 95% chance that he would be right-handed, I found that I frustrated and confused him. In fact, while printing his name and common words and letters easily his left hand, a switch to the right caused mirror righting; his name starting with an "L" facing the wrong way, and then following to the LEFT to look like "EKUL."

It's not that big of a deal, and not something I'm at all concerned about. On the contrary, I really marvel at it. Here's this little boy who I've taken care of everyday for the past three and half years, and yet, I'm still learning about him. Not only that, but I'm finding qualities in him that aren't familiar to me. Whether it be that he's left-handed, or when he shows compassion in a particular way that I know we haven't taught him yet, I'm in awe with the understanding that our children are separate and different from us, and humbled when some of their virtues aren't taught, but inborn.

In so many ways our children are strangers to us, evident not only in the revelation that having a left-handed child was even a possibility, but in other ways like his unwavering fascination with everything scientific. Already with the baby I notice his baby play; so different than what I expected. My expectations might have been different, but I'm so thankful for the surprises present and those in store.