'Outrage' by Abby Manzella

We live in a time of contagious outrage. My husband, on the sofa, is outraged at the lead story on Florida’s evening news. From behind the kitchen island, I am outraged that I am expected to come up with yet another costume for Dutch for some made-up school day meant for spirit and healthy habits. The man on T.V. is outraged that libraries want to shelve books he finds “reprehensible.” His rhetoric escalates the longer the reporter interviews him; hate fills the air.

Dutch enters the room standing in a corner with our black lab until we notice him, a silver colander balanced on his head and a blue towel draped across his tiny shoulders. He pets Skylar gently, and then he doesn’t so much announce as whisper too loudly to the dog, “I want to be Dr. Strain for Vegetable Superheroes’ Day.”

I put down my chopping to hug him and cheer his ingenuity. He is serious and clever.

Dutch continues, “That way, I’ll have a helmet if there is any shooting.”

I hug him a little tighter.