I have a problem. I am the mother of a five year old, but that’s only part of the problem. I am the mother of a five year old who wants to run away from home.
I remember being little and wanting to run away from home. My mother was the tough-love sort who asked me if she could help me pack my bags when I declared I was leaving. I told her no, I could handle it myself. I kept thinking she would stop me, but she was busy cooking dinner.