We’d waited so long to hear him say anything.

Luca was born with Down syndrome, and while he was the brightest light in our house, speech had been one of our biggest hurdles. We tried everything—therapy, sign language, flashcards, even puppets. Nothing stuck. By the time he was three, we were used to the quiet, the hums, the claps, and his sweet little giggle. But no words.

His big sister, Maris, never gave up on him. She’s six going on thirty, always talking to him like he’s just another kid at school. Reading him books, dragging him into her pretend games, even when he just blinked at her or clapped his hands. Lately, she’s been obsessed with this one Disney song—”You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” She sings it constantly, like it’s her personal anthem.

So last Tuesday, after dinner, she climbs onto the couch with Luca and starts singing it again, loud and dramatic. I was in the kitchen, half-listening while drying dishes.

And then I heard it.

A tiny, raspy voice, not hers.

I froze.

She stopped singing.

He looked so proud of himself. He clapped and leaned into her, giggling like he’d just pulled off the biggest magic trick in the world.

I didn’t even grab my phone. I just stood there crying like a total mess, dish soap still on my hands.

We’ve been trying to get him to say it again ever since. And yesterday, something happened when we were FaceTiming my mom.

My mom, who everyone calls Nana Bea, lives a few states away. She’s one of those unstoppable grandmas who always seems to have a fresh batch of cookies or a craft project waiting, even if it’s just virtually these days. We FaceTime every weekend so she can see the kids, especially Luca. She’s been our biggest supporter through all of his therapies and has never once stopped believing in his potential.

Yesterday, while we were on our usual call, Maris decided to sing that same Disney tune again. She’s got her toy microphone, trying to be all theatrical, spinning around in front of the phone propped up on the table. Luca was right beside her, slapping his hands on the rug in excitement. Nana Bea was watching, eyes sparkling through the screen. She sang along a little, but mostly, she just wanted to see Luca’s reaction.

Then Maris said, “Mom! Turn it off for a second.” By “it,” she meant the karaoke version of the song playing softly on my husband Erik’s phone. She insisted she could sing better a cappella. Erik, smiling in that proud-dad way, paused the track. Maris cleared her throat dramatically.

“You’ve got a friend in me,” she sang, in her best “look at me, I’m a superstar” voice.

And suddenly, there it was again: that tiny, raspy echo that made every hair on my arms stand up. Luca whispered, “Fren,” just like before. Then he tried adding a new sound, something like “Mee.”

He couldn’t get “me” perfectly, but we all lost it. I squealed so loud the phone tumbled off its prop, and the screen went flat on the table, giving us a nice view of the ceiling fan. My mom was shouting, “I heard that! I heard it!” from somewhere in the background. Maris and I threw our arms around Luca, who was clapping like he had just solved the biggest puzzle in history.

For the rest of the day, we tried coaxing him to say “friend in me,” or even “friend.” But you know toddlers—especially one with Down syndrome—the more you push, the less they cooperate. He just giggled and made faces, which was adorable but also a test of patience. Later that night, though, we got an even bigger surprise.