Most of our friends and family have prayed us through the last 9 months with our baby. He suffered constant ear infections, had tubes put in, stayed sick, and endured trial-and-error cocktails of assorted medications. Two weeks ago we saw our ENT for what I hoped would be a final visit. Baby has been surprisingly healthy for a couple of months; I prayed for a clean bill of health and a release form. Instead, I got an audiologist telling me that Baby's hearing is questionable at best and the doctor recommending an invasive test requiring general anesthesia. Since then, I have been a wreck. Our friends and family are praying again, and I spend a great deal of time following Baby around the house, listening hard for any intelligible word or a sign that he comprehends what I say to him. Tonight, while he was eating the head off of a dinosaur chicken nugget, I was chatting at him about animal sounds. "Baby, what does a chicken say?" I am so used to him not responding that I almost missed it: "Bock bock," said he. "Baby, what does a cow say?" "MOOO." Never before has a chicken noise sounded so sweet, and I doubt that the moo of a cow will ever again bring me to tears. This precious communication does not mean we are out of the woods, but it is definitely an answer to this mommy's prayer.