From dawns cracking until he closes his eyes at night, our little boy fills every single moment, nay second, of the day,  with words.

It’s great?

At 3 and a little bit his vocabulary is extensive, he has descriptive words, uses emphasis correctly and can clearly communicate his thoughts, feelings and wants and needs.

All day.

Like every second, of every day he communicates, and communicates and communicates.

So much so that no one else can get a word in edgewise.

I don’t know if it is a boy thing, or a third thing, or just a “him” thing . . . but it certainly is something.

Yesterday as we were putting on his shoes he was actually quiet, and for such a long duration we could actually count it.

He was quiet for 9 seconds. In a row.
Stop for a minute here and count 9 seconds.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9

Yup. A miracle.

Before and after that 9 seconds our world was filled with his words. All of them, over and over and over again.

My husband and I sometimes catch each others glance over his words, and I can see the same look in his eyes.

We love that our little dude talks, but he may very well be sending us over the “sanity” line with the constant verbal diarrhea.

As I enjoy those few short hours of quiet when he sleeps, I like to comfort myself with thought that a boy with this much to say must have something in store that will amaze the world – right?

Or will the words just dry up as he hits puberty and he becomes yet another silent teenager?

And I remind myself, too many words is better than not enough, right?