On the way home, I stopped to collect school forms.

The receptionist asked whether the guardian information had changed.

“No.”

I confirmed the contacts, not because Elliott had legal authority to make the change, but because I wanted the practical arrangements to be accurate.

The people permitted to collect the boys were listed clearly.

The school had the current court order in its file.

Later, Caleb watched me fill in a form at the kitchen table.

“That’s you.”