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As much as the physical labor of moving sucks — all the cleaning, all the packing, the constant smell of corrugated cardboard, the reduction of a somewhat-orderly home to what seems like a hopeless clutter — what’s infinitely worse is when your three-year-old daughter realizes that today was the last time she’ll get to play with the kids at the Sunday School you just started taking her to a few months ago. I moved a lot as a kid, so I’m in a weird double position: I know that “You’ll make lots of new friends” is pretty much true, but I also know that “You’ll make lots of new friends” is also of absolutely no consolation when you’re about to leave the current friends behind. In all likelihood she will have forgotten these kids’ names by Christmas, but she knows their names now, and three-year-olds are notable for not having yet figured out how to mask their heartbreak.