Uta took about three steps out of bed this morning before turning back and diving deep beneath the covers. Its too cold for school, he said. I was able to tempt him back out with the promise of a cozy blanket and hot tea waiting at his seat. Winter is here. The warmth of bed is suddenly so precious and too fleeting. My hands are always cold and Uta squeals in agony when I help him into his clothes. Bracing for the coming months feels like an impossible feat.
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