“I wish I wasn’t so clever,” said DS1 on the way home from school. “Why’s that?” I asked, intrigued. “Then I wouldn’t have to do this boring research for the NHS.” You may recall that towards the end of the last school year, DS1 finally received a visit from an occupational therapist. The idea being she would identify his needs from an OT point of view and create a programme for the school and us

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DS1 is still under the illusion that he is a genius. A remarkable achievement considering that he is burdened with, in his eyes, intellectually challenged parents. “Two idiots make a genius,” he has become very fond of informing us. While we’re on the subject of his genius, I recently asked him to shut the door on his way out of my study. “No,” he replied nonchalantly. “Geniuses like me are too posh to do that.”

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“The TV has broken,” pinged a text from the wife. “What? How?” I replied, flustered – I can’t deal with this now I’m watching football, I restrained myself from replying. “Dunno, half the screen has gone black, like it’s got a crack in it. But it’s still smooth to the touch.” Followed by: “He doesn’t think he touched it with anything, but he can’t be sure.” Ah, now we were getting to the crux of

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