Roan’s communication has gotten so good that he’s capable of telling short stories, and he tells many throughout the day. They are usually very colorful: full of half-truths, dreamlike, and semi-autobiographical. Here’s a simple little story he told the other night (we took notes while he was talking)…
Roan: Man crashed a BIG truck (heavy guttural emphasis on “BIG” with hands raising in the air).
Mama: Oh no, that’s terrible.
Roan: They’re ok. They go da-poach-ay (Chipotle).
Mama: Oh, what did they eat?
Roan: Salad…Beans. Cheese.
Mama: What else?
Roan: Cream.
Mama: What else?
Roan: Bwacamole (guacamole). And all kinds of stuff!
Mama: Yum, that sound delicious.
Roan: The man find a spicy pepper (getting louder, talking faster, with a more intense look on his face). Spicy. The man coughed a spicy pepper!
Mama: Oh, a spicy pepper?
Roan: Yeah, yeah, yeah, spicy pepper. The man wanted water.
Raising Roan 