A language of their own

It was just before 6 this morning when the boys awoke. I was tired. I fed them each a bottle and crawled back into bed, hoping my husband and I could steal just a little more sleep before getting the older kids off to school. Then the growling began, a deep, low, intense guttural growling. It rose from the study that we had converted into a nursery and over the railing of the loft, seeping through our bedroom door. It grew louder and stronger and soon was followed by screeching and peels of laughter. Matthew and Jonathan were chatting and nobody was going to sleep through it. My husband gave up. He rose from bed and went downstairs to free them from their cribs. I knew what he would find. Matthew would be standing where the cribs meet in an L-shape. Jonathan would be sitting, looking up at him. They would burst into fits of laughter and giggles when he walked through the door, just as they have done for the past several months. We have heard this same conversation with different inflections since they were about four months old. Jonathan and Matthew regularly exchange grins and giggles after sips from their sippy cups. They crawl to each other and position themselves almost head-to-head, growling, laughing and squealing while they try not to fall. They once chatted for 30 minutes while one bounced in the exersaucer and the other sat on the floor. Part of me is jealous of the secret language they share, but most of me is simply in awe.