When I learn all these new things a camera or phone or computer can do (which it's been able to do all along without my knowledge), I think of something I heard once--that we only use about 10% of our brains' capacity. We have come to rely on these expensive brains in our hands so much that we may often wonder what we'd do without them, yet they can do so much more than most of us even realize.

Every time I watch Elena, I'm reminded of the openness and enthusiasm in children's sponge-like brains as they are learning to be in the world.  At six, the brain is such a wonderfully agile thing!  If you say a word to a six-year-old once, it's absorbed immediately--and used soon afterwards with confidence.  If you tell her a story, she might remind you of the story in great detail a year or two later.  If she picks up your iPhone, she can figure out how to use it even without knowing how to read.  Often, just by sheer instinct, she can take really good photographs, too.

Elena was, as we adults were, totally engaged and fascinated with  Kwasi yesterday.  When he tells a story, he acts it out--including falling on the ground to demonstrate the lion or tiger who's sedated and caught in a net to become somebody's pet.

"In America I don't see any tigers or lions as pets," he said.  "Only dogs and cats."

Elena's eyes widened at the possibility of having a cute and playful tiger cub in her yard.  To a six-year-old, anything is possible.  Even stuffed tigers and lions are real and need attention and food and love--so why not have a real one too?

When she pretends to be a horse or a dog or a cheetah, she knows it's pretend but that doesn't impair the joy of pretending.  She might whisper to me, "This is pretend"--then proceed as if neither of us knows that! I'm still expected to provide a tasty meal for said horse--and plastic beads work very well for this purpose.

At 28, Kwasi speaks three languages fluently and wants to learn Spanish.  He taught us several words and expressions in his native language (Ashanti)--and I'm pretty sure Elena will remember them this morning. Then he taught her some conversational French.  I hope his linguistic skills will make her value even more that she's bilingual.  How I wish I had two or more languages embedded in my brain and could switch back and forth with ease!

"Here we have to use telephones to call and tell people when we are coming.  In my country, we walk to their houses [he acts it all out] and knock on the door and call out like this: 'Madame Linda this is Kwasi come to see you!'  Nobody ever says no, you can't come in."

When for a brief moment, he thought my lawnmower wasn't working properly, he said, "I will just go across the street and ask to borrow Curran and Harvey's."  He had just met them yet was ready to borrow--which he did, successfully, which I never would have considered doing!

"In my home country, we borrow things from our neighbors and they borrow things from us.  It's how neighbors are supposed to be," he said.

It is refreshing to meet people of different cultures who do things differently and who open our minds to new possibilities. It's exciting to take a class and learn that that little symbol we've never noticed before can do magical things.

When I can open even a little tiny chamber of my mind, I feel like Elena who learns new things all day long and is open to trying anything:   "Look, Yenna, I can do the splits!" or "I love washing dishes!" or (when I want to pull over and take photographs in culverts:)  "Okay!  Let's do it!"