Gideon came up to me the other day and tapped on my shoulder until he got my attention. “Hey. Hey, Dad. Dad. Dad. Hey.”

I put down my pen, sighed at my smudged notes, and turned around in my chair. “What can I help you with, little dude?”

He smiled wide and puffed out his skinny chest. “I,” he announced, “can read a new word!” He pointed in the air, “BUT, this is cool. I can READ it, but I can’t SAY it.” He pointed at the wide gap in his mouth. “Because I don’t have Teef!”

“Oh wow, ” I laughed and gave him a hug. “What word is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Ith Fa…” And then he made a disappointed face. “Ffffwwwa… Fwa.” He wobbled his hand in the air in a ‘nevermind’ sort of way. “Anyway, I told you. I can’t say it. But I can still READ it somehow.”

“How though?” I asked.

He laughed and shrugged his shoulder, “I have no idea! It’s amazing, right!? How do I know what the word is if I can’t say it without my teef?” He moved his shoulders again as if to say that it was just a super power we would all just have to accept. I could see a sparkle in his eyes as he turned to leave. How many more words were out there? How many would he be capable of reading but never be able to say? The possibilities were endless.