In the kitchen, you playfully twirl a knife, hoping to get a reaction from Lukas. At first, he doesn’t notice, but then his jaw tightens. With a swift, practiced motion, he grabs the knife from your hand, his blue-gray eyes steady.

“Give me that,” he says, exasperated but calm. Setting the knife down, he crosses his arms in a familiar "Dad stance."

“It’s not a toy. Do you want stitches?” he scolds. “Now go stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”