Ethan's Laugh...

Probably for the first time in my life, I'm actually worried about over-stating something.

Hyperbole has always been my modus operandi, largely because people's attention spans are getting shorter the longer I talk (I teach high school so I know firsthand,) and the well-placed over-exaggeration always seems to snap people back to reality so that I can finish the last ten minutes of how I like my toast.

And yet, what I'm about to type may sound like an over-exaggeration, but I actually think it is true: I believe that Ethan has enjoyed the highest quality of life he's ever had since Wednesday.

No, really; he smiles all of the time now and is much more active with his limbs. He has started to plant his heels down on the carpet when he's lying down and lift his lower back into the air much like a wrestling bridge.

He's much more happy-go-lucky now, he tolerates diaper changes better ("strapping on a fresh one" as Lisa and I term it,) and he giggles. A lot. Watch a video of him giggling here.

His laugh is remarkable in two ways. First off, you have to remember, we were not able to hear Ethan make a sound for 3 months while he was intubated. All we knew of Ethan's wants and needs was through his facial expressions and the incessant beeping of the machines. So now, whenever he does make a noise, I enjoy it more because I remember how much I hated it's absence.

Secondly, his giggle/laugh is gruff-sounding. I call him the Lil' Godfather because it sounds dusky and lower than what you might expect. He can make higher-pitched squeaks and squeals, yet his laugh drops lower.

What makes him laugh the most is when I try to help him stand on his feet. This is part of his physical therapy; most every time I hold him under the arms and stand him on his feet, he breaks up laughing. Whatever works, y'know?

Now on to the proper way to make toast...