We went back to the hospital yesterday for one of Andy's follow up visits. It felt very weird to be walking those halls again-especially carrying him with us. It reminded me of a particularly wonderful conversation I had with Ali while we were still living there.
I had been explaining to Ali that babies cry because they haven't learned their words yet and that is the only way they have to let their Mom or Dad know that they need something. She pondered on this for a moment or two and then said, "I hope Andy doesn't speak Spanish."
"What??" I asked.
"If he speaks Spanish then he'll have to go home with a Spanish family and I want him to come home with us." She matter-of-factly explained.
"Well,don't worry. He IS coming home with us and he'll speak the same language that we do."
"How do you know?"
"Because we'll teach him."
"That's a great idea, Mom!"
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