Changes

Well, it's been a busy couple of weeks. First, we tried to go to Puerto Rico for a wedding, and for our first vacation since 2018. You adored the hotel, in part because Ama and Poppop were there too, but also because there was a huge water slide and a big pool and we just played in there all day long. It was great! You finally turned three for real, and the whole restaurant sang to you at breakfast. Ama gave you toy knights to joust with and some lovely Magna tiles and everything was fun. You stayed with them playing while your dad and I went to the welcome drinks for the wedding, where we expressed pleasure to our friends that we had never caught Covid.

Then that night you awoke in the night as warm as a bread loaf, saying "Mama, I'm hot."

Guess what. We got Covid.

Unfreakingbelievable.

We didn't go to the wedding.

We flew home, perhaps unwisely, but unable to stomach being locked in a hotel room with only three Richard Scarry books and 24/7 merengue blasting by the pool. We masked up as well as we could, fled home, and holed up in our apartment, where at least there is good food delivery and we control what music is played, and at what volume. 

But bigger news still is that you have been absolutely miserable at school. We think you got off on the wrong foot, hitting a classmate a couple of times, even though we had warned them that this was an ongoing area needing work. Your teachers, we think, telegraph their disapproval or disappointment, because thereafter you were hysterical at dropoff. You don't like them. They, we think, don't like you. The school wasn't willing to move you to a different classroom. You are miserable, and we are miserable because you are miserable, and I am furious at them. Absolutely. Furious. They were the only reason we were still in the city anymore, really. And when you need extra exercise, they have you walk in a circle along a line taped to the floor. Like in prison.

So, guess what? We're quitting. This is your last week at your fancy New York City Montessori. On Saturday we will drive back to Marblehead. Next Tuesday you will go back to teachers you know and love at Harborlight. We will delay our application to Shore by a year. You will have consistency. And calm. And people who care about you. 

Goodbye, New York. 

Big change, huh. 

I want you to know I'm sorry, Succotash. You know, I do these things because I'm trying to get you the best start in life. But when all is said and done, if you aren't happy, and it's not just difficulty with change but actual, not-working-out unhappy, then yes, I will uproot absolutely everything. I will burn it all to the freaking ground if that is what is necessary.