The next few days saw a repeat of the same pattern: I would go over to Tim’s in the morning, come home for lunch, and then return in the afternoon. Tim and I started getting very casual about our diapers—going outside in them wasn’t a big deal anymore. All the neighbors had seen us and seemed to be supportive. We even got more ‘treats’ from them than normal.

Unfortunately, spring vacation was almost over and we hadn’t done any of the things we had said we would. Our moms had bought us pants to wear but our thick diapers caused an obvious bulge that we knew we couldn’t hide. (The style of the day was tight-fitting clothing, especially boys’ pants, which had tight, straight-cut legs. To wear anything else was totally un-cool.) Tim and I were very worried about going back to school. On the bright side, Mrs. Perals was very happy with the improvements she was beginning to see in Carl. He had not thrown a tantrum all week and he had even engaged in play with Tim one morning before I got there. On Friday morning, she greeted me effusively.

“Billy, you don’t know how happy you’ve made us, Mr. Perals and me. We were on the verge of deciding to put Carl in an institution but your idea has made all the difference. Thank you so much.”

I was embarrassed by this attention and by the hug and kiss she gave me, especially since Tim was standing right there.

“You’re welcome,” I stammered.

“I know that you’ve given up your whole vacation to help us. How would you like to come with us tomorrow on a family outing? We’re driving up highway 16 to a little spot where we like to have picnics. Afterwards, on the way home, we’ll eat at The Chicken Farm. How does that sound?”

“Great!” I said. “But I’ll have to ask my mom when I go home for lunch.”

“Mom,” Tim chimed in, “can Billy stay over tonight? Especially since we’re going to leave pretty early.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Timmy. In that case, I think you should call your mom right now, Billy.”

My mom gave her permission and then Mrs. Perals talked with her for several minutes.

“There now, that’s all settled,” she said as she put the phone down.

“When you go home for lunch, your mom will have your things ready.

You’ll be having dinner with us tonight, too.” I was happy to see that Tim was as excited as I was about my sleepover. Before things went any further, I couldn’t resist teasing him when we were alone in his room.

“Are you sure it OK with you that I sleep over tonight, Timmy?”

“It’s great,” he answered enthusiastically. Then, seeing the smirk on my face, he reacted to my having called him Timmy. “Arrgh! Not you, too! It’s bad enough that my mom and dad are doing it now!”

“Your dad started calling you Timmy, too?”

“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “I guess it’s OK.” We were interrupted by Mrs. Perals.

“Boys, come here—but be very quiet.”

We silently followed her out of Tim’s room and stopped outside Carl’s door. He was sitting with his back to us, playing with his miniature village. He was vrooming and screeching the cars around the various pretend streets and highways. After a few seconds, she signaled us to follow her downstairs.

“Wow,” Timmy said in amazement.

I didn’t get it, so Mrs. Perals explained.

“Except for when he’s upset Carl never speaks, at least not until now. It’s unbelievable that he’s actually imitating the noises that he heard you and Timmy make over the last several days when you played with his village. Do you remember that I told you that Carl was aware of lots of things, even when it seemed like he wasn’t listening? Well, this proves it,” she said excitedly.

I was getting excited, too. I was overwhelmed by the idea that I had actually made a difference in somebody’s life. It was amazing. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom and dad. I felt ten feet tall.

“Wow,” I said, echoing Timmy.