As his only biological parent and the one person that has always been there from day one with him, he and I share a special bond. I have promised him and he knows that come hell or high water I'm there for him, but he's a fretter.

I worry myself to warts and I know that being a virgo, that's precisely what he does, too. So all this time while I've pounded out the logistics of this move and fretted about it, he's simply worried a lot about how this affects his world.

He's worried that Mike's father will find us and hurt us, if he gets out. He's worried about losing all his friends when he moves and about the work required to make new friends. He's worried about getting made fun of because he "talks funny." He's just worried. A lot.

We had to be honest about Mike's dad. His godfather said I shouldn't have told him, but I wanted Russell to be scared of strangers and never open that door or answer that phone or get in the car with someone he doesn't know. He thinks he's so tough. He sometimes has said when we've talked about "stranger danger" that he'd fight and kick their ass. My little spindly kid with no ass thinks he's a blackbelt or something. We told him the barebones truth because I wanted him to not open the door or answer the phone. Now, he doesn't. He keeps the damned door shut and he doesn't answer the phone.

It's a terrible price to have to scare him, but it would be worse to have to bury him.

We can't convince him he'll have new good friends, even though the house owner's 5 year old thinks he's the cat's meow. What's worse is that all the kids he plays with are moving, too, so he's feeling very very overwhelmed with the grieving over that and he's 7, so he doesn't have a lot of experience coping with that just yet. And Russell has never been one to have his life routine screwed with much. Oy!

Add to the fact that Picky Eater Boy is eating everything that's not nailed down, i.e., in a growth spurt, and the slightest mention of anything that goes against what he has in mind sends him spiraling into tears.

I tossed and turned for hours last night. Mike and I talked about it for a bit and we both concluded that all we can do is emphasize the positive aspects about moving, like his summer camp, learning to ski, the new friends he'll make and I'm going to see about making a time that we can tour his school before the school year ends.

And today, we're going to go home, I'm going home early and he and I are going to sneak off to the pool to swim before I have to get his sister at daycare. I don't know what else to do for him.

I think the worst thing in the whole world is watching in abject horror as your child suffers through something, even though you know it will work out. Old standards like,"Oh, he'll get over it" aren't helping him or me get through it and I'm finding that my heart breaks on a daily basis, even as I try to encourage him forward.

My Eeyore Boy just frets and tries to get out of the rain in a lean-to in our Hundred Acre Woods and takes my umbrellas so occasionally.