I sat at Dinosaur's baseball practice, telling my friend that we'd surely get a placement call the next day, because I had plans to babysit my baby nephew all day.
I came home to B sitting expectantly by the door with some news to share.
So, now we have a 2-year-old boy in our family, who I will call Crocodile. Thankfully not for biting (though, hey, if that's going to show up I'm not worried), but for his first toddlerspeak conversations with me centered on his Crocs. "I want them off. I want them on. I want them off." He wore them to bed. I just checked on him while writing this post as he's not asleep yet, and he was walking around his room with them in his hands.
He's a strong and coordinated little guy, but with these wonderful tiny chubby fingers. He has some heart-melting big grins. He gets quiet around other kids, but when it's just me or sometimes just Dinosaur or Rhinoceros, he starts a long toddler monologue.
So far he has not been wailing about bedtime, but he has not been sleeping either. Very restless, just can't settle. He was pretty scared and reluctant when he came through our door. Poor guy.
Dinosaur and Rhinoceros are slowly adjusting to him. Rhinoceros seems a bit confused, as he's not the partner for conversation and play that Cricket was, but he's also not a baby. They've got some big brother roles to figure out still, but no major issues yet either.
I am tired. I am cheered by friends' support and surprise fresh-picked strawberries. I am charmed by this little one, my heart warm with affection for him. I am hurting for this little one and his family. I have no idea about the future. I am a foster parent in the first week.