Letters to His Son

I Noticed. I Got Your Favorite.

Mo is coming to play.

What does Mo love?

Think. Think. Think.

Mo loves orange slices!

So you get orange slices ready.

You put them on a plate.

Ding-dong! Mo is here.

Look! you say.

I noticed. I got your favorite.

Say it with me.

I noticed. I got your favorite.

Mo’s face goes big and happy.

Mo hugs you.

It feels good to be noticed.

Mo notices you back.

Another day, Mo comes again.

What does Mo not like?

Think. Think. Think.

Mo does not like the loud drum.

So you put the drum away.

Quiet is better for Mo.

You say it again.

I noticed. I got your favorite.

Do you have to find everything?

No! Just one little thing.

One little thing is plenty.

And you don’t do it to win.

You do it because Mo matters.

Who is coming over next?

What do they love?

Pick one thing. Get it ready.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This comes from a father’s advice to his young son in the 1700s: find out what each person likes and have it ready, such as a favorite dish, and say you noticed. The father said small attentions of this kind please people more than big favors. The same collection also advises flattering people in ways a child should not learn, and this primer leaves that out; what is kept is only the honest, small noticing.

A Minute Is Something

Splash, splash. The bath is filling.

You have to wait.

How long? One minute.

A minute is small.

A minute is something.

Say it with me.

A minute is small. A minute is something.

So what can you do?

You pick up one sock.

You put it in the drawer.

One sock! Done!

Now the toast is toasting.

You have to wait.

One more minute.

You draw one star on a page.

A minute is small.

A minute is something.

Next day, you wait again.

You draw another star.

And another. And another.

Look at the page now!

A whole sky of stars!

Little bits add up.

All from the little waits.

Do you have to be busy all day?

No! Rest is good, too.

Some minutes are for resting.

Some minutes are for stars.

You choose.

This week, when you wait,

find one small thing. Do it.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: The idea comes from a father’s letters to his son in the 1700s. He told the boy to take care of the minutes, because the hours take care of themselves, and he said that people lose two or three hours a day by ignoring the small leftover bits. The same father also valued rest and pleasure, and this primer says so too, to head off the child’s reading that every moment must be used.

Mad Is Okay. Wait. Then Soft.

Do you have a snow globe?

Shake, shake, shake!

Whoosh! The snow flies up.

Can you see the little house?

No! Not yet.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

The snow floats down.

Now you can see!

The little house is right there.

When you get mad,

your head is a shaken globe.

Whoosh! All swirly.

So what do you do?

Mad is okay.

Wait.

Then soft.

Say it with me.

Mad is okay. Wait. Then soft.

You take a big breath.

You take another breath.

Count them. One. Two.

The swirl settles down.

Now you talk. Soft.

I did not like that.

Please give it back.

A soft voice can still say no.

A soft voice can still say stop.

It is soft and strong.

Does it work every time?

No. But you try.

Next time you are mad,

breathe three times.

Then talk soft.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: This is drawn from a father’s advice to his son in the 1700s: at the first heat of anger, stay silent until you can be soft, and be gentle in manner but firm in purpose. The father also advised hiding feelings from one’s face for business reasons; this primer teaches only the pause and the soft, firm voice, and it says plainly that being mad is fine.