Santana was nearly positive that she was more nervous than her son was. "Rafi! Let's go!"
Her six year old son Rafi came shuffling out of his room, dressed in his school uniform and clutching his teddy bear. "Morning, Mama!" He climbed up on his stool and hugged her. "Do I have to go to school?"
"Yes, you do. And in honor of our first day of school in England, we have kippers, toast, and eggs."
Rafi gave the kippers the look of all picky six year olds everywhere.
"You'll like it," she assured him.
It had been a long year the year before. Santana's divorce had been hard – awful – but the silver lining was her acceptance to King's College in Cambridge. So after a lot of tears and paperwork and sleepless nights, she'd packed the two of them up and moved to England. Getting her PhD in History was a terrifying prospect, but as nervous as she was, she was still excited. Excited for herself and excited for the new life she'd get to give to her son. She wrapped up his sandwich in parchment paper and stuck it in his lunch bag – blue, gold lining, school issued. She pulled the cord and attached it to his backpack.
"Do you need anything else for today?"
"No, Mama. Will you come get me?"
"Yep!" she said, checking to make sure her own bag was packed. She looked to make sure Rafi had at least eaten the eggs and toast before saying, "Ready to roll?"
"Na'am," he said, nodding.
Santana mentally cursed Quinn for teaching him Arabic, while also realizing that it was probably that that got him such a high score on the school's entrance exam. "Okay, let's go love. We're leaving Sergeant Cooper here," she added, nodding to the bear.
Rafi set it down on the living room chair and followed his mom out of their flat, and into their newest adventure.
