So when this is what your Daddy is spending half the summer doing:
One evening, you might announce you’re off to study your Hebrew letters. At that point, your parents might be extremely curious as to what you are referring to. When you return with your much-beloved, tiny green Bible (courtesy the Gideon society members who showed up at the U of WA every few months), your parents foolishly assume you’re going to open to a random page of tiny print and announce you’re studying your Hebrew letters.
Not so. You’ve been paying careful attention, and you spend a little while looking very carefully through the pages and say, “I’m looking for my Hebrew letters.” Finally, you announce triumphantly you’ve found them, then carefully begin to study:
No, they’re not Hebrew, but for a two-year-old, I was impressed at her ability to identify letters from another writing system, remember where she had seen them, successfully find them again on her own, and then to diligently “study” them. (If you are Chinese, please forgive me for not correcting her. She meant you no offense, nor do I. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. She thought your letters were beautiful and intriguing, and worth her spending quite a number of minutes studying.)
After she carefully studied up on her letters, she decided it was time for a group study session: