Slow Miracles

Yesterday evening, I sent the older boys upstairs to get ready for Scouts. I had put the Cherubim's hat and scarf in his drawer…not where they usually were.

He came down a little later, dressed in his uniform shirt and pants, all by himself, and said in  his backwards breathy voice (he breathes in instead of out when he talks.):

"I need my Scout hat."

And I thought…Boy, I don't think I can say that he doesn't talk any more.

Since then, he's said: "No pancakes, I want a poptart!" and "Where is the number three?"

So…yeah. The Cherubim talks now.  ;-)

(Right now, he's lying on the couch laughing…no idea what he is laughing at.)