You and I go to the eye doctor and look at distant charts consisting of progressively smaller letters, voting for ONE or TWO. Since Lexi is physically 16 but mentally 2, she can’t really answer questions about the E on the top line. If I didn’t already know, I’d be rather curious about how an eye exam for someone who cannot read actually works. As it turns out, the gang at Kellogg Eye Center (you’ve tried the cereal, now try the exam!) at the University of Michigan (still winning in some minds) is very good at checking the eyes of those of us with special needs.

A quick dilation (don’t ask how the eye drops went) and a comparison of light refraction is about all they need to decipher if Lexi needs glasses or not. It makes me wonder why you and I don’t undergo the same simple exam, rather than the stress of deciding which one is better: ONE or TWO. I don’t know about you, but that whole inquisition with the giant knobby lens machine in our face feels like the worst final exam ever. ONE OR TWO!?! WHICH ONE LOOKS BETTER? Don’t get this wrong or you WON’T BE ALBE TO SEE CORRECTLY FOR A YEAR, at least ONE or TWO years.

Not only do I give five stars to the team at Kellogg Eye Center, I also give high kudos to my son — Lexi’s brother, Malachi — who was unsurprisingly willing to take the afternoon off of school to join us and give me a hand with her. His presence made things much easier indeed. I am blessed and grateful for each of my kids. On this trek to Ann Arbor, I found myself again thankful for what Lexi teaches me about joy and grace, for Malachi’s vigilant servanthood and good company.

By the way, Lexi doesn’t need glasses, and that’s probably a good thing. When she encounters something she doesn’t like, she throws it across the floor and/or into the trash. Brussels sprouts, poorly disguised Melatonin tabs, and, I imagine, her prescription and pricey glasses.