Christopher has penmanship like his father’s: A cross between a serial killer’s and a neurosurgeon’s. With a burst of newfound literacy, his words run together without capitals, spaces, uppers and lowers jumbed together. It has a profoundly confusing affect. We offered him a dollar for each exercise page, a knock-off of a typing exercise from decades past: “The quick brown fox jumps. The lazy dog sleeps.” To no avail. So you can imagine my mixed feelings this morning, coming out to find the following sign posted on his bathroom door: “Sarah is not a lod in this bathroom!” It was his first independent expression … […]