And then, just like that, things change at a really bad time.
You know, like they do.
Sounds like parenthood to me.
Over Labor Day Weekend, we had Eleventh kid. He was rad. We loved him. He was super sweet and funny, he knew how tragic his life had been, and could process the shit better than some adults. He still struggled, though, and I thought to myself, this guy needs more one-on-one time. Group homes are going to be hard on him.
We talked to his full-time foster parent about doing respite again in October and November with this kid, so he could get some breaks from the hub-bub and just chill.
Previously, BGA had asked if we were interested in going full-time, and because DW is still getting settled in her new classroom and building lesson plans, and then of course there's all my religiosity at year-end, we thought it best to not even consider it until the new year.
But then when you get a phone call that one of your favorite kids needs a better situation for the next 60 days and that plan includes you, SWEET BABY MOSES, how can you say no?
I couldn't say no.
We couldn't say no.
So we changed our plans.
He arrives in about an hour. Wish us luck.
