My Little Brother and Me W
hen he was three years old and I was five, I learned my little brother his letters, the same letters I had learned from my aunt Betsy. I was taking care of him, while Mama was busy. I showed him the letters in the Bible. “Look here, Abe,” I said. “This is an A
. This is a B
. This is a C
. Now you point like I did.”
He did it. He pointed to the letters. I didn’t have to tell him but once. “Now you’re going to make them letters,” I said. I was still a little girl and not speaking perfectly. “Come on...