Monday Was Knives

Dublin is not alarmed by danger.

Instead, glass, heights, fire captivate his sensory.

Another day,

Another item,

triggers family gasps!

Monday was knives.

Usually  it is spoons that he uses to beat his imaginary furniture drum set.

He squeals , sings, and welts whatever hard surface he can find.

Monday was knives. 

His parents and therapist slowly, carefully approach him,

this topsy-turvy child, squealing with joy, unknowingly holding or getting too close to his parents biggest fears.

Monday was knives. 

His parents and therapist assert "stop", "no", "danger".

Dublin did not understand.

The triangle of adults that surrounded him looked at each other to see who was closer,

to see who was least likely to tilt the boat.

Monday was knives.

Dad makes a move.

Slips Dublin back into the safe zone,

removing the knives from behind him with one hand and pulling his torso away with the other. 

The adults catch their breath.

Dublin never lost his.  

Monday, the drawers became knifeless.

#implicationsofseverelanguagedelay