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Willow

"MUMMY, I DON'T WANT TO GO." DYLAN KICKS THE AIR WITH A HUFF, and I roll my eyes.

This boy of mine is not a morning person.

Just a few months were enough to forget how hard it is to get a kid up in the early hours of the morning to get ready. Those were hard, long days during my last two years of high school that I sure don't miss. And yet again, here I am at bloody six in the morning, fighting this little devil's terrible temper so I can get him to kindergarten before I head to school.

I've genuinely received a few hits from his tantrums in the past, but I have been relentless in getting him to control his impulsive temper. Thankfully, he's gotten better at it with time, slowly learning to explain what he's feeling or what he wants instead of throwing fits.

But I can see it's starting to develop more as a personality trait, to often act without thinking. Just like someone I used to know...

"Dylan, what did I tell you about kicking and hitting just because you don't get what you want? What if you had hit me, huh?"

At my words, he sits up straight and looks at me wide-eyed. I know he doesn't mean to hurt anybody with it, but still, he needs to start growing out of it.

"No, no, no! Sorry, Mummy! I didn't mean to hit you, but I am just so, so sleepy," he whines, burying his head in my chest and faking a sob.

Kids these days turn into professional manipulators at an early age. Thank god I don't fall for it anymore.

"If you had done as I told you yesterday, you wouldn't be tired right now. Tonight, you'll go to bed earlier," I scold.

Dylan groans into my chest but makes no move from the position we're in.

"Come on. Let's get you ready." I tap his shoulder but don't attempt to move either. "We have our first day of school today, and we can't miss it."

"Aren't you old for my school?"

"I have explained it to you," I answer him with a light chuckle.

"Mummy's not going to your school. Remember that I told you I paused everything when you were born? You were very little and needed a lot of care and attention..." It was difficult to accept I had to stop studying; the only bright side of it was taking care of him.

Dylan quickly consumed my thoughts, leaving my studies on the back burner. When he nods, I continue. "Well, now you're older and ready to go play with other kids, and I can finally finish my studies."

"Then what kind of school is it?"

"It's called college. A kind of grown-ups school."

His eyebrows twist in confusion as his mouth forms an 'o'. "Is it important?" I nod, giving him a patient smile. "Why?"

"Because Mummy wants to be a teacher, like the ones you'll meet today. And for that, I need to study some more, so I can do what I love."

I did it. It may be four years later than usual, but I still did it and am so proud of myself. I will be able to show my baby boy that even as a teenage mother, I didn't give up on my dream; that his existence encouraged me even more to be a good example to follow.

"Will I need to go to college, too?"

"If you want to." I smile gently.

"I don't know..." He trails off.

"And that's alright." I chuckle. "You're too young to decide now.

Let's focus on the school for your age and get ready, eh?"

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