Micah's Christmas Gift to Me

This Christmas, Micah is giving me a gift that only he can give. And it may be one of my favorites of all time. With the exception of the year that Luke was born not right at the holidays but a few weeks early. That was a great gift, but one that is appreciated to the fullest once per lifetime. I'm just saying, I'd rather not be giving birth every holiday season just to recreate the magical charm and glow of new motherhood of that special year.

But Micah's gift is next in line to the gift of Luke. He's talking. Every time I even so much as think it, much less hear it, I tear up. I know we've been around and around about this, but there's the very real possibility that my boy may never talk. Ever. And there's also the very real possibility that he may talk, but nobody will ever understand much more than a few words per sentence. I think that's where we're heading with this Christmas gift, but I'll take the small steps and celebrate like there's no tomorrow.

My boy will talk.

He graduated on, just this month, from the single syllable AaaaAaaaaAaaaaaah (which means absolutely everything from "Where's Woody?" to "I want to go to McDonald's for supper. Now.") to near babbling. Any parent knows how babies learn to talk. They start with the babbling. The practicing of syllables and sounds, putting noises and lip movements together in experimental ways, making moms and dads all over the world burst with pride at the genius that is their baby. Micah is no different even though he's 5 1/2 years instead of 5 1/2 months. But his babbling is very different. It's not the mamamama or daddaaadaa that other kids do. I think the difference is that Micah's brain is more advanced than that of a baby. The boy has stories in there that want to get out. And he tries telling them. He tells us about his day, and what he sees as we're driving down the road, and tattles on his siblings. And it sounds a lot like this.

ghkthaaaaaauan mthbaaaakg giiiikt kaaaaaaashgt nnnmmmmunnnmmm

Absolutely nobody has a clue what on earth he's saying except him, but he's making an effort. My heart swells with pride in his accomplishment because I know that someday those consonants and vowels will sort themselves out inside his mouth and real words will come.

And I'll cry. Again.

It's the merriest of Christmases, and the best gift that he could ever give me. Someday, my boy will talk. And I will understand him. And there is very little that beats that in the gift giving department.