On the way there, the boy just wouldn't shut his mouth. Perhaps we should start calling him "Mouth". I don't remember what he was talking about, but he likes to repeat things.
"Dad, I have my ball. It's a golf ball."Now I'm always happy deep down inside whenever he says anything at all, but I wasn't feeling that deep down warm and fuzzy feeling at that point. I was beginning to tune him out.
"That's great buddy, you have a golf ball."
"Dad, I have a ball. A golf ball."
"I see that Drew, you have a golf ball"
"I have my golf ball."
A few minutes later, I start to realize that he's talking to me. Not about the golf ball. So once I tune in I realize he's a little upset. What's he saying?
"Daddy, PLEASE talk to me! Talk to me DaDa!"
It was wonderful. I might have had a tear. It was another one of those moments that make some of the rough times worth it - a moment where you remember just how special it is that he is able to continually improve his speaking ability, and a time to be so thankful that he can talk and likes to be talked to. Nothing can diminish that feeling!
"I have a golf ball. It's my golf ball, Dad."