Ever since this incident, where the ENT in China thought ZZ was deaf and mute, Mr. T and I have a running joke when ZZ is, um, running at the mouth (which is nearly every waking moment).  Because he has so much to say and there aren’t enough hours in the day to say everything he wants to say and sometimes most of the time his spoken words can’t keep up with what he is thinking so it comes out kind of jumbled and then he has to start over so then sometimes what started out as story A becomes story B so that by the time he gets to the end of the story we are just as confused as he is but then he remembers that story A was IMPORTANT and so he will go back to that story and story B gets kind of lost until 5 minutes later when story B becomes IMPORTANT and then we have two stories that we fully understand only to find that it’s time to hear story C which might or might not come in the form of a song.

Ahem.

Wherein Mr. T and I will look at each other and say, “Have you ever heard him talk?”  Because it’s just unconceivable now that anyone could have thought this child was mute.  Life with ZZ is anything but quiet.

And I can’t say that quiet befalls the house even we are all asleep.  ZZ moves a mile a minute in his sleep and occasionally laughs or says a few words.  Jazz barks in her sleep; Abbey whines.  But in the wee hours of morning, it’s about as quiet as it gets, everyone clinging to those last minutes of deep sleep.  Or maybe, knowing the noise that will soon follow, I just think those moments seem extra quiet.

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