I’m sure it will forever remain a mystery, but I would like to know one thing.
Why is it that, on some days, language comes so easily to Conor. But on other days, trying to get him to communicate seems like an insurmountable task.
And it’s not because he doesn’t want to talk. You ask him a question, and you can see that his brain is running running running to try to get the information.
But his brain just can’t get to it. It’s like the squirrels in his brain can’t remember where they hid the nuts.
“What did you and Daddy do today, Conor?”
“Conor, what did you do today? Did you go somewhere?”
“Con, you and Daddy went out today, where did you go?”
“CONOR, where did you go today with Daddy, Miss Polly, and Miss Sharon on the outing you earned?”
“Sweetie, what did you do today? Did you play miniature golf with Daddy?”
To which he replies, “Conor and Daddy played miniature golf.”
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