Sacred Haven of Debauchery

When I was little, my neighbor, who was the same age as me, would come over, and I would read books to him, while he sat and listened (when his parents read to him, he didn't seem to listen to them). But we were friends. Even earlier, when we couldn't speak properly, we communicated in our own language (according to our parents. They didn't understand us, but we apparently understood each other).