Living with an 18 year old

today I finally made a long
and labored
decision to throw in the new school towel
and run back home...

translation:
Sammy is returning in two weeks
to the preschool he has been in since the Y's
sudden demise.



why did we leave?
more importantly-why are we going back?

sam

he kept asking.
he kept asking and asking.

he tried.
he made new friends.
he ate the food.
napped in the new place.
and learned the new rules
requests, and circle time
rituals.

and then he'd ask again.
mom can I please go back to my
old school?
please.

the most convincing argument besides-
my teachers love me more there
and my friends really like me
and I want to be in school with Marcel
but mostly I just was happier there

was when after I explained
that some decisions we will make
together,
and some I will make on my own,
and some he will make
alone.
But for the most part he would
have to wait until he was eighteen
before he could make certain
big decisions by himself.

thinking we were done
talking for the night
I turned to put away the dishes

a few minutes later
I look over and tears are racing
down both cheeks;
but mom I will be too old to go to my old school
when I am 18...