I took my child to school and witnessed the change. My girl, softly swayed at home, emotions tentacled, always reaching, an only child weighed by her parents whims, turned stout. Concrete. We met two of her friends in the hallway, and after polite gestures the girls fell in line. She led us to her classroom, past her teacher and the painted graffiti walls, signaling to one and all that the world now belonged to them.
As I left, i looked around, now mindful of the societies rising and falling, the uprisings and coups, the sorties and crusades. Child soldiers–my tiny Napoleon–dressed in school colors, fighting an endless battle, coming home only for an overnight retreat.