Imagine that you’ve just turned four. (If you really did, you can skip this part.) Your name is Maya. And you are, to quote your mother, wiggly and giggly. You’ve got a mischievous streak, and a perfect partner in crime: Parker, your standard poodle.
Now. Imagine that you can’t speak. You can say “done.” And, sometimes, “bye” and “mama” and “dada.” But the muscles that control your speech production are just too weak and disorganized to get you any further.