We were eager to hear what he had to say.

Luca was born with Down syndrome. He was the best thing about our family, but we had a hard time with him talking. We used dolls, sign language, therapy, and flashcards, among other things. It didn’t stick. He used to hum, clap, and make a sweet little noise. By the time he was three, we were used to it. But no words.

Maris, his big sister, never gave up on him. He talks to her like he’s just another kid at school even though she’s six years old and thirty. She read him books and played make-believe games with him, even when he just blinked or clapped his hands. She can’t get enough of this Disney song called “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” She sings it all the time, like it’s her own special anthem.

So, after dinner last Tuesday, she and Luca got on the couch and she started singing it again, this time loud and dramatically. While I dried the dishes in the kitchen, I half-listened.

Then I heard it.

A very small, scratchy voice that wasn’t hers.

I went cold.

She quit singing.

Then I heard it again.

“Fren.”

The towel fell off.

Maris looked at me with big eyes and said, “Mom.” “Friend,” he said.

He was so proud of himself. He laughed out loud and leaned into her like he had just done the world’s greatest magic trick.

I forgot to get my phone. I was so upset that I just stood there crying with dish soap still on my hands.

He has been asked to say it again ever since. Things also went wrong yesterday while we were FaceTiming my mom.

My mom lives in a different state and is known as Nana Bea by everyone. She’s one of those grandmothers who can’t be stopped. She always has cookies or a craft project ready, even if it’s just online these days. Friday through Sunday, we FaceTime so she can see the kids, especially Luca. And she has never stopped believing in his promise. She has been our biggest fan during all of his treatments.

Maris chose to sing that movie song again yesterday while we were on our usual call. While acting out, she spins around with her toy microphone in front of the phone that is propped up on the table. Luca was right next to her, happily slapping his hands on the floor. Nana Bea looked at it with eyes that sparkled through the screen. She joined in a bit, but mostly she was interested in how Luca would respond.

Maris then called out, “Mom!” “Turn it off for a second.” She meant the karaoke version of the song that was playing in the background on my husband Erik’s phone. She claimed that she could sing better by herself. Erik stopped the song and smiled like a proud dad. Maris made a big noise with her throat.

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

The tiny, raspy echo that made every hair on my arms stand up came back all of a sudden. Luca muttered, “Fren,” just like the last time. Then he tried adding a new sound that sounded like “mee.”

He wasn’t quite right about “me,” but we all lost it. The noise I made was so loud that the phone fell off its stand. The screen fell flat on the table, letting us see the ceiling fan. “I heard that!” my mom yelled. “I heard it!” from somewhere else. As Luca clapped like he had just solved the world’s toughest problem, Maris and I threw our arms around him.

The rest of the day, we tried to get him to say “friend in me” or just “friend.” You know that when you push a child, especially one with Down syndrome, they won’t do what you want them to do. It was cute that he just laughed and made faces, but it was also hard to wait. That night, though, we were in for an even bigger treat.

Maris came into my room after Luca went to sleep. I had never seen her face look like that before—kind of worried, kind of excited. “Do you think Luca might talk more tomorrow?” she asked her mother. I felt that question deeply. Maris loves being with her brother, but I know she’s thinking why it’s taking him so long to do things that other kids do without any trouble. I put her on the bed and told her, “Sweetheart, we love every word and sound, even if it takes Luca a little longer.” It could happen today or next week. He will get there, though.

“I’ll just keep singing until he does,” she said with a smile, like any big sister would. She ran back to her room after kissing my cheek. That girl can’t be stopped.

We had what I like to call a “off” day the next morning. The dog next door barked all night, making Luca cranky because he didn’t get enough sleep. Erik had an important work matter come up, so he was on his laptop with his phone pressed against his ear and shoulder, talking about charts and due dates. Maris was mad that she spilled chocolate milk on her favorite shirt. There wasn’t much of a desire to sing along.

But around noon, I heard Luca whine in the living room because he was upset. He just sort of wails sometimes when he can’t say what he wants, and we have to guess. Is he hungry? Are you tired? Are you bored? This time, I saw that he was pointing to the hall closet, which is where we keep his board games and snacks. “Luca, do you need anything?” I asked. He made a point, whined again, and then… I’m not kidding… He told me, “Gah,” with a straight face. Most people might not think much of that, but for us, it was something new. It was a new sound that sounded like it was meant to be there. I got his favorite farm animal book out of the closet and brought it over.

Maris ran in when she heard the noise. Luca lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw her. Then she started singing right away, “You’ve got a friend in me…”

He clapped and then did his best to join in. He said, “Freh-nn…mee.” It wasn’t perfect, but it made me cry right then and there.

Erik popped his head in from the kitchen while he was still on the phone for work. His jaw dropped. He said in his head, “Is he talking?” I nodded and tried to hold back tears as I tried to stay calm, but I was basically a mess of feelings.

“We’re best friends,” Maris told Luca as she took his hand. For all time, right?” Luca just smiled big at her and said, “Freh” a few times. He seemed to only know one word, but that one word made our hearts swell ten times over again.

This is where the little twist came in, which taught me a very important lesson about trusting Luca’s skills. He has had the same speech therapist, Donna, since he was a baby. We met with her the next day. We didn’t tell her about his try to say “friend” yet because, well, we wanted it to be a surprise. Donna started the session with the standard flashcards, which were pictures of everyday things like “ball,” “cat,” and “apple.” Luca was bored and didn’t want to look at the cards.

Then Maris, being Maris, began to hum that song again. She doesn’t feel bad about singing in public. The woman smiled. “Go ahead, sing for us,” she told Maris because she loves how excited she is. When Maris began to sing, Luca’s eyes lit up. I saw his lips move all of a sudden.

“F-fren…” “Mee.”

She almost dropped her deck of cards. “That’s great, Luca!” she said. She had the most beautiful look on her face. She had been hoping for a big step forward like this for months. She told us, “Music is such a great way to improve speech.” I’m sure we’ll make more progress if you keep singing with him and getting words from songs.

Later that night, we had a small party without planning it. Erik made Maris a milkshake, and I baked cookies, even though they were made from a box mix. We raised a glass to Luca’s new words. Someone asked him to sing again, and all he did was clap and say “Fren.” We all cheered like he had just won a gold medal.

That night, Maris told me, “Mom, I think Luca is starting to talk because he knows I love him.” Before I put both kids to bed, That simple sentence broke my heart. “You might be right,” I told her. “Love has the power to tear down walls.”

This story is important to me to share not because I think every child’s journey will be the same as Luca’s, but because we never know when a change could happen. It’s sometimes a special kind of medicine. It’s not always the right song at the right time, played by the person they love the most. It was both for us. All the work we’ve done and Maris’s song finally lit a spark in Luca’s mind and heart.

We saw him try more sounds over the next few weeks. His mouth is starting to make more shapes, which makes me think he’s really trying to figure out what it means to talk. He’s not just reciting words. A lot of the time, we still use sign language and motions to talk to each other, and we love that. But Luca’s eyes light up every time Maris plays her Disney music. He claps his hands and taps his little feet to try to join in.

We can all learn something from this: change can come when we least expect it. It can be hidden in everyday things, like when your six-year-old sings her favorite Disney song on the couch. Structured ways, schedules, and timetables for growth take up so much of our time that we forget to make time for simple, happy connections. We can open doors we never thought possible with love, fun, and time spent together.

Those who feel like the quiet or the pain will never end, please keep going. Do not give up. Keep singing, hugging, and hoping. Since you never know when that thought of something you know will turn into a word and then into a sentence. Even though it might take a while and look different for each family, it can happen, and it’s worth every tear, bit of patience, and shaky but brave first word.

In our house, that magical moment came from a song by one of our sisters. And it makes me think that love, not force, can lead to the best results.

Please share this story with someone who might need some hope today if it moved you. Don’t forget to like this post; it might reach a parent who can’t wait to hear their child say their first word. We can enjoy every win, no matter how small, as a group. We’re here to help you, after all.