That Little Voice...

"Mama, trees are almost always tall.  They go up to the sky and out to the sides and sometimes down down down," I hear from the backseat.  As I look in the rear view mirror I notice he's also using hand gestures to shape out the trees and I smile.

"And plants are almost always short.  There are fat ones and skinny ones and red ones and green ones and blue ones.  No, wait - there aren't blue ones.  That would be silly, Mommy."  

If I wanted to get a word in, to comment that there are blue plants - somewhere in the world, I'm sure - it would be pointless.  That little voice keeps...

"Mama, Mama, why is your hair up?  I like your hair when it's shaped like an A.  And when you wear your glasses.  There is an A in my name, Mama.  B-R-I-AAAAAAAA-N.  See?  And Gavin has an A in his name.  And Daddy has an A in his name, too!"

And so it goes... all day long... stream of consciousness... and only ends when his eyes are closed in the dark.  And sometimes, not even then.

It's hard to believe that only a year and a half ago, I wrote this entry about his speech evaluation.  I was shocked that he didn't do very well... that he scored low on cognition and would not only need speech therapy, but a special education teacher to come to the house.  I was, you could say, in denial.  But... the turn around has been even more shocking. 

I once had two mute children.

Now I have one.

You know... now that I think about it... 

I once had two crawling children.  Then I had one.

With time, hope becomes possibility.  And with love, the possibilities are endless.  

But sometimes, no matter how much I love him and how happy I am and how grateful I feel for that sweet little voice... every now and then I could use a few minutes (in a row) of silence.