...Suddenly it occurred to me that a radical change might be warranted. I had an idea. Or an aneurysm, or something.
“Wait,” I said aloud and poked Anthony in the shoulder. He’d closed his eyes almost a minute ago, so naturally he was deep in a REM cycle. I poked him again.
“I think we should move to Costa Rica.”
Anthony struggled to his elbows, tried to shake off the groggy. “Wait…what?”
“Seriously. Hannah will be in high school in two years. It’ll be too late. We need to go now.”
Anthony sat up in bed and was silent for a long moment. Then he said this: “Hmmm. Yeah. Let’s.” And went back to sleep.
Seven weeks later, we left.
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Margot freaks out about privilege and parenting
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