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Saturday, November 08, 2008

As dull as ditch water

I terminate my scientifically conducted discrete trial early, due to a distinct lack of co-operation by the subject. It’s one of those prompt and response experiments. No matter what I try, it makes no difference. My daughter spins her wheels and hovers, observant but without interference. For now he is syllable free, silent. I, on the other hand, am exhausted, worn down and defeated. I’ve had just about enough of these glass half full, nauseatingly optimistic, count your blessings types……I should know better of course.

I remember sitting in on a speech therapy session, when silence descended. When silence descended I was like a squirrel on the edge of my branch, twitching, waiting to witness the magic trick, to learn what the magic trick was, ready to implement the magic trick myself. After 45 minutes of prompting, jokes, cuing, distracting, silliness and encouragement, we left, still in silence, without the knowledge of the magic trick. The magic trick did not exist. It was a salutary lesson, but only for me.

I let him drift off on his own so that I complete my notes on yet another failed campaign and 32 minutes of mute. 32 minutes of mime and mimic. Sequencing and prepositions are a trial for us all. I add my notes to the A4 arch lever Ring binder where I house many similar aborted or failed experiments spanning copious years of defeat. I return the binder to the cupboard with it’s fellows, all equally as shoddy. As I shut the door I hear odd noises from the spare bedroom. I step closer to ear wig as I need to know who is talking, and who is talking about what.

“O.k.! Yah listin?” she bellows in earnest. “So when I poke here, then you fart. Got it! Yah ready!” I crack open the door, just a sliver so that see what my ears are reluctant to comprehend. I catch him nodding his head with great enthusiasm. She prods the centre of his forehead, ringing doorbell style. He responds immediately with raspberry noises from his mouth. They both fall about on the carpet cackling, “agin, agin, agin!” he pleads as he wipes away the tears.

Now why didn’t I think of that?

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