This is Sam Thresher, who is nearly three and who is autistic. I hesitate to use the word "dishy" about a toddler, but he is mightily handsome. Thanks to his mother, Katharine, for sending this in.
I'm posting tons of pictures and not many words because Nell has the usual winter-time coldy thing and keeps waking up in the night because of incessant coughing - hence not much sleep and brain slightly frazzled. My major, and deeply thrilling, news, is that on Monday she clearly and intelligibly said 'NO MORE' apropos some fish fingers. She segued seamlessly into 'MORE HONEY' at breakfast yesterday. Given that she technically can't talk, this is unimaginably exciting. She's also working on saying 'Daddy's car', except without the Ds (palate issues = no hard consonants). So that's pretty cool. My love for Great Ormond Street's speech therapy department - passionate and devoted at the best of times - has hit stratospheric new heights. Who knows - she might yet turn into Kierkegaard (?? I think), who was completely mute until he was five, and then suddenly announced, 'Mother, I would prefer my potatoes mashed in future, please.'
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