You are sound asleep.
You should be. You earned it. You worked hard today even though you didn’t feel well.
You followed instructions. You stacked blocks. You retrieved toys you’d thrown. You ran wild, kicking a ball and giggling along. You hugged for the joy of hugging and you cried when you bumped your head. (You were brave though. You thought hard if it actually hurt.)
You listened when timeout became a real threat. You pushed boundaries and respected them. You asked for snacks and asked for toys. You let yourself be you and that was enough, always enough. You concentrated when she hid something under a cup and moved them around, always picking the right cup. This is not average for your age. You have no idea how smart you are.
You had no idea we were testing you for speech issues and never cared that you seemed to be behind. Why does it matter? I imagine you’d say. Look at how good I am at everything else. Isn’t that enough?
Yes, son. It will always be enough. You’ll speak in time but for now, I love you exactly as you are. You’ve taught me that I can love you deeper without words. You’ve taught me that I can know you by the flick of an eyebrow or the twist of your lips. I never needed words with you then and I certainly don’t now.
Someday when your speech does come, all it will be is a bonus and I’m beyond grateful I had all this time to get to know you, really know you.