The Questions of My Child: Understanding Communication Challenges

We know my son asks a lot of questions – so much so I have written a whole blog about this. His favourite type of conversation isn’t a typical back-and-forth exchange but more of an interview—he asks, and the other person answers. He much prefers one-on-one conversations, and when more people are in the room, he seems to struggle, often trying to monopolise the discussion.

But recently, I’ve noticed something unusual in how he communicates in group settings. I only realised this after an interaction between my husband and son while they were playing football in the kitchen. I was watching when my husband turned to me and said:

“I’m hungry but not hungry at the same time.”

My son then looked at me and asked:

“Why does Eddie* feel hungry but not hungry at the same time?” (*name has been changed)

And I wondered why he hadn’t directed that question at my husband. He directed it at me. This puzzled me and it led me to observe things for a while. And I realised that if he wanted to find something out about someone he wouldn’t ask that person directly it always came through a third party i.e. me, or my mum if he was with my mum. He would ask the person he wanted to ask a question via someone else. And I wasn’t sure why. At first I thought it was because he was more comfortable asking that specific person and that might be it but then another event happened which interested me too. One night my husband let out a massive burp (this was quite unusual to be fair, he doesn’t very often burp) and my son laughed and said….

Son: “Say pardon you.”
Husband: “Pardon me.”
Son: “Noooo, say pardon you.”
Husband: “That’s what I’m saying—pardon me.”
Son: “Noooo, you’re saying it wrong. Say pardon you.”
Husband: “Pardon you?”

And by saying Pardon You instead of Pardon Me that settled it. It made me wonder if my son struggles with understanding first, second, and third-person perspectives. Maybe that’s why he avoids directing questions to the person they’re about—because he’s unsure which form to use. It’s just easier for him to use names instead. And this made me consider his communication as a whole.

If you speak to my son, you’d think he’s an excellent communicator. His vocabulary is advanced, and he often sounds like a little adult. But beneath the surface, there’s a different story. He struggles to follow conversations, sometimes taking a long time to process questions. I used to repeat myself, thinking he was ignoring me, but now I say it once and wait. Often, ten minutes later, he’ll answer. His love of asking questions seems to be his preferred way of interacting—it’s not truly reciprocal.

I also remember how, for the longest time, he referred to himself as “me” instead of “I”—saying “Me thirsty” instead of “I’m thirsty.” Not unusual for a small child, but he continued this well beyond the typical age. I recall pointing at him and saying “I” repeatedly, trying to teach it.

And as with everything I write about once I start writing and thinking about this my mind starts to remember things. And I remember my son being a toddler and just learning to speak – it was quite delayed. He got referred to speech therapy because at his 2 year check (which was delayed thanks to Covid) he wasn’t talking much. In fact he didn’t really say mama and dada until much later. His first word was car and then binmen then for a long time all he said was “Be Away”. He would be greeted by people and he would shout “Be Away. Be Away,” – I have a video of him chanting it at me. I never really thought about it at the time because it was quite funny but really the signs were there from an early age. He was never actually seen by speech therapy – because of covid there was a backlog and by the time I actually spoke to them my son’s speech had progressed massively. I often wonder if things would have been different had we had that appointment. It feels like there have been a lot of missed events, some due to covid but some due to nobody piecing it all together. And I wonder whether the mess we are in now could have been prevented.

We had had our fair share of appointments though and looking back, there have been many signs that something was different:

• As a baby, my son cried a lot. Health visitors said it was silent reflux, but in hindsight, I think he hated being touched.
• His speech was delayed, and though referred to speech therapy, the delays meant he progressed before being seen.
• He had unusual eye flickers that the GP thought might be absence seizures. Neurology tested him, but the EEG was normal. The consultant concluded it was behavioural—possibly stimming.
• Concerns about his restrictive diet led to a referral to a dietician, but nothing really came of it beyond the usual “they’ll eat when they’re hungry.”

Along with what I have observed there are so many signs, yet no one has ever pieced them together. All of this makes me wonder—how many things have we missed simply because no one looked at the bigger picture? 

And the irony isn’t lost on me. If the professionals we relied on had communicated better, maybe my son would have had the extra support to allow him to communicate better, too. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to get through so much of this on his own. Maybe we wouldn’t be here, still searching for answers that were always there, just waiting for someone to see the bigger picture.