Albert Einstein and I have a lot in common.

He was rubbish at maths. Seriously, it’s true. He failed his maths exams multiple times. I am also rubbish at maths.

He was not great at communicating. He didn’t speak at all until he was five and not well until he was seven. I often loitered at the edge of the playground as a child, not knowing how to communicate with the other kids.

Albert Einstein was recognised as a towering genius. This is where we differ. I am not yet recognised. I also have partial, undiagnosed dyslexia, which is the worst kind, because no one believes you have it.

I imagine Einstein probably had rubbish handwriting. I certainly do. I’m nervous about writing in the school message book because I often completely forget how to write halfway through a sentence.

I struggle to write a message about my daughter not getting on with some other pupils. She, I suspect, isn’t always quite sure how to communicate with her classmates. It’s terrible to know that your kids are having negative experiences, perhaps because of traits that you have passed on to them, but overcoming our limitations is what defines us.

After school my daughter is a bit fed up. Her big brother mysteriously disappears, then returns with a card in an envelope which he gives to his sister, before disappearing again.

He’s obviously written her a card to cheer her up. This, I reflect, welling up, is a more important skill than writing or maths. Kindness is the most important skill of all.

We can’t read the card. It’s a baffling scrawl. We have to call him back to read it for us. He frowns at it for a while then recalls the message from memory.

It is beautiful.