Today at the playground, Jared and I watched as Beren climbed a spiral ladder, stepped across space, and onto the adjacent platform. He strode across a wobbly bridge, which would have made him nervous just weeks prior.
A sudden jump in language.
We sat on the platform, our "snack hut" out of the unseasonably, historically warm drizzle, dividing smoked salmon and slices of cheese onto fresh bread. "I love you, salmon. I love you, cheese," said Beren.
Jared and I smiled at each other. "After all I've done for you?" Jared whispered to me. I shook my head. "We rarely even get hugs. He loves the cheese!" I answered. "I never ever heard him say the word 'love' before." Jared agreed.