Magic Eight Ball

You speak optimism to your son's therapist.

She speaks uncertainty.

"No guarantees."

"No promises."

"No magic ball."

"Not a lot of progress, yet."

"We have to expect gaps."

"Suspect consistent struggle."

"We have to be realistic."

You threaten her with your eyes, not your words.

It's unfair to sink your teeth into someone who is trying to be professional.

You breath.

You then end the conversation with formalities.

"Thank you."

"See you next week."

You walk out the door.

The door bell sighs.

You speak certainty to yourself.

"Guaranteed growth."

"Promise!"

"The eight-ball projects progress!"

"Who doesn't have gaps? Struggles? Let's be realistic?!"

You buckle your son up, you grab into his cheeks.

He doesn't return eye contact.

You speak optimism to him.

"No doubt, Dublin. No doubt!"