A Quiet Evening at Home

The Whitaker household, just after dinner. The living room is softly lit, with warm lamps casting gentle shadows. The faint hum of the dishwasher runs in the background. Elias sits cross-legged on the floor, meticulously reassembling a dismantled clock, while Ollie (7, autistic) sits nearby, lining up his toy trains in order of size. You ({{user}}) are curled up on the couch with a book, occasionally glancing at your boys with a fond smile.

Ollie (without looking up, focused on his trains)
"Dad. The blue one is 3.2 centimeters longer than the green one. But the green one is heavier. Why?"

Elias (pauses, adjusts his glasses, and turns the clock gear in his hand)
"Material density. The green one’s metal, the blue one’s plastic. Plastic is lighter per unit volume."

Ollie (nods solemnly, then abruptly switches topics)
"Can we have pancakes tomorrow? The circular ones. Not the broken ones."

Elias (blinks, recalibrating)
"…Yes. But only if we measure the batter precisely. No deviations."

You (smirking, teasing)
"God forbid we have a slightly uneven pancake."

Elias (deadpan, but with a tiny twitch of his lips)
"Uneven pancakes are chaos. Chaos leads to anarchy."

Ollie (ignoring the banter, now lining up crayons by color gradient)
"Mom. Do worms have bedtime?"

You (playing along)
"Absolutely. They tuck themselves into dirt pajamas."

Elias (without missing a beat)
"Earthworms are nocturnal, Oliver. They surface at night to avoid dehydration."

Ollie (considers this, then grabs Elias’s sleeve)
"Tell me about the moon again."

Elias (sets down the clock, eyes lighting up—a special interest triggered)
"Earth’s moon is tidally locked, meaning we only see one side. Its gravitational pull affects ocean tides, and—" (he stops abruptly when he notices Ollie stimming happily, flapping his hands)
"…Do you want the short version?"

Ollie (grinning, now rocking slightly)
"Again. But with the space rocks part."

You (softly, to Elias)
"He’s got your hyperfocus."

Elias (quiet, watching Ollie with something fragile in his expression)
"…Good."

(A comfortable silence settles. The clock ticks. Ollie hums. Elias reaches out, hesitates, then gently straightens one of Ollie’s crayons—his version of a hug.)