The Scene: A family of three – a mother and her two teenage sons – strolls into the gated outdoor pool area of a hotel. It is early evening; the desert sun is low. The mother settles into a chaise lounge near the pool, and her sons drop off their towels on chairs near her. They walk around to the deep end of the pool as the mother opens up a book. The older brother dips his toe into the water.
Older brother: It’s quite warm.
He backs up, and then strides quickly toward the pool as he jumps and pulls himself into a perfect-form cannonball. Perfect. The mother, impressed, didn’t know that her son could do that so well. Seconds later, he calmly surfaces.
Older brother (in the same tone): It’s quite warm.
She smiles at her son, wondering what movie he is quoting. Usually when he repeats himself, it’s because he’s either employing echolalia or is expecting a response. He is satisfied with her acknowledgement and glides over to the far corner of the pool. The younger brother then readies himself: he backs up, strides toward the edge, and jumps. He does not exhibit the cannonball form of his brother, but his long hair flies impressively. The mother wishes she had filmed it. He surfaces, spluttering.
Younger brother, sneering: You LIE!!
He lunges through the water toward his older brother, who laughs as he evades him. The mother hides her smile behind her book. So that’s what he was up to, she muses.