I always wish I could know the inside of our kids' brains. This is especially true with our foster children, who have memories we don't know, who are processing their experiences in ways we don't understand.
Crocodile thinks the case aides that supervise visits and have sometimes transported him to visits are very important people. He often includes them in lists of family members, and when they were transporting, he would always talk about visits as "Miss Carrie coming to pick me up" or "Miss Beth driving me in her car." We'll turn onto a street and he'll tell me that Miss Carrie drove that way to pick up his sisters. Kid is three!
But my favorite part is when he says, "Miss Carrie played this song." He says it most often for the Christian radio station, which we listen to maybe 30% of the time. Sometimes it's for songs that I know she might have played, as I've asked and she did listen to the same station, but other times it's impossible. She stopped driving him for visits five months ago, and these are new songs. There must be something in the music. He says this several times per week. He never says it for other stations or music, with one exception. I've become a huge Hamilton fan and listen to it often (careful to turn down the volume at key parts). "History Has Its Eyes on You" started up and sure enough: "Miss Carrie played this song!" Apparently this song, and this one alone, somehow sounds like the Christian radio station.
One of our transporters for our son became an important liason between his birth mother and I during his foster time. She went outside the boundaries of her job description and helped forge a tiny relationship between myself and this scared teen who didn't speak English. These are unsung heroes of the foster system.
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