It's a joy to hear Isaac speak, even when he repeats the same words 1,356 times per day. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. He didn't talk for many years, and I don't take his words for granted. I really don't.
It's a gift to be loved by this kid, and I know it. He never lets me forget how much he loves me. His love is pure and sweet and strong.
Even though I delight in being one of his favorite people, I have to admit that his nonstop declarations of love have taken a toll on my productivity.
"It's very distracting when you are speaking all the time!" I yelled one summer day when my tank of patience was running on empty. "It's really hard for me to concentrate!"
"No concentrate!" Isaac yelled back, as he motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch.
I put down my to-do list, took a deep breath, and put my arms around him.
"Who do I love?" I asked.
"Isaac," he answered.
"Who does Isaac love?" I asked.
"Mom. I love Mom," he said, and he laid his head on my shoulder and smiled.