It happened last Sunday. Bo was quite confused and quiet, but he was at the kitchen table eating his lunch, partly with his fork and partly with his hands. The vase of daffodils was in the center of the table. I knew I should move them away, but I didn’t.
As Bo ate, I turned away from the table briefly to get something from the counter, and by the time I looked back, he had put half of the daffodils into his glass of orange juice and most of the others were piled atop his uneaten omelette.
My immediate response (although I know better) was to grab the flowers and say, “What are you doing? Why would you do that?”
His response: “I don’t know.”
I don’t know. These words say it all. He is confused, he doesn’t see things clearly, he doesn’t understand many of the words or…
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