He's really going

Evan just cooked us a wonderful dinner. Fortunately it was spicey and so he might, just might, think that my eyes were watering because it was hot.

Of course that was not why. He's really leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow morning I will hand him over to his social worker and she will take him away. It is the culmination of everything I have been focused on for two weeks, and now it is making me cry.

I want him to go, I really, really do. But I don't. I want to call the center and tell them to take good care of my little boy, my 6 foot 266 pound little boy.

I am a big, whimpy, co-dependent bowl of rice pudding.