no balloons.
“So, you’ll see that, basically, all’s fine with Zak.”
“Yes, my wife and me — we’ve read your report.”
“Yes, so I’ve assumed.”
“Of course, we did.”
“Yes. Of course you did.”
[beat]
“It is my understanding that there’s something you wanted to discuss with us.”
[beat]
“Yes.”
“Yes. So, what would it be? Anything of concern?”
[beat]
“No. Concern? No. I wouldn’t say so.”
“Still. An appointment was necessary.”
“It was, indeed. It’s the shape-sorter exercise.”
“What about it?”
“Well, most toddlers show signs of contentment when they can solve the puzzle. They match a shape to the correct hole and they are — well, they’re happy. The green triangle block goes through the triangle hole and they giggle. They feel they have accomplished something.”
“And Zak? Can he match the shapes?”
[beat]
“I think he could.”
“Could? As a hypothesis?”
“The point’s this: Zak looks happy when he places the wrong block on the wrong hole. He puts a square block on a circle hole and he’s happy to see it not fall through. He leaves the square shape on the circle hole and he’s content it won’t drop.”
[beat]
“And you think that’s awkward?”
“Awkward? No. Out of the ordinary? Yes.”
“How so?”
“Statistically speaking.”
[beat]
“Statistically speaking, should my wife and me be worried?”
“No. Zak is — Zak.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means what it means: Zak’s Zak.”
