Searching for cats

What fun I'm having with Callum, playing in the sand in the park by Reuben's school, then onto the library for puzzles and books.

At home, Reuben recites his alphabet signing along so beautifully. We've been without speech therapy for many months now whilst awaiting the Age 3 transition with the school district. Despite his many barriers to speech, being hard of hearing, palsy, surgeries on his vocal chords, 3 years with a trach and an inability to tolerate a speech valve due to air upper airway obstruction, he's working so hard to prove he can do it. Callum helps him and he helps Callum. They fill in for each when the other's struggling and yet now that Callum counts quite happily to 14, it's given Reuben the urge to push even more.

Meanwhile, Callum has a new game. Let's stick your hands down your pooey pants and come running to Mama after you've made sure Reuben and the playroom have had a good share. I have to think this behaviour is completely unique, well at least nobody else is getting their Doctorate from Google in trying to decipher so perhaps I should just keep it to myself in shock, and believe, me, I get my fair dose in the shower afterwards.

The boys are upstairs in the new bedroom overlooking the balcony, Reuben here, looking for cats. Callum finds it hilarious to shut the door on me, laughing his socks off. I'm stuck on the balcony. Bummer.