Blessed Trinity

The professionals hand out boxes to all of us. The boxes have covers but we know that there are rainbows in our boxes. We can hear the rainbows twirling around and making giggly noises.

The professionals tell us, "You all need to quiet down and listen to our instructions."

"Fuck your instructions!" someone yells. "You professionals are the stoopids," adds another.
"Your behaviors are unacceptable," the professionals chant together. "You both need a ten minute time-out."

The two go to their time-out chairs smiling, because the rainbows in their boxes are now tap dancing and singing a rather risque drinking song.

The time-out is over. Before the professionals can stop us, we all run to the barred windows. The youngest in the group opens all the windows.

We let the rainbows out of our boxes. They escape through the slits and blow kisses at us as they fly away.
We return to our seats and sit quietly in awe and wonder.

The professionals pass out M&Ms because we are now sitting quietly with our [now empty] boxes and no longer arguing with them about the contents.

Or:
The autistic youngster wants to reach for something and can't manage it so he uses the arm of a friendly adult to get it.
The standard issue kid whines and throws a temper tantrum and maybe climbs up on the furniture and breaks a leg.

Or:
Those that accuse us of not having this other mind thing don't recognize that we do. We are quiet about it. And we are free from the compulsion to arrange the environment into socially acceptable small talk.

spike