Yesterday a stepson's family joined us for the day- good food, conversation, company.
With them were 2 extra kids, who've been with them just a month. Boy's 6, girl's 4, half-siblings.
At least 2 more older ones exist, again with different sires. The dam is a druggie, in & out of jail.
These little ones are pretty damaged- boy can't write his name, is doing a 2nd kindergarten year.
Closest thing to family was his last stint with a grandmother, who was lying dead when the caseworker
dropped in. Kids came in, he announced, "I'm a foster kid!". Little sis is a pocket-sized cutie, mentally
pretty far behind,but child service says greatly improved over the last month.
Now, my stepson's family has faced several tough years- weird neurosarcoidosis is sidelining him from
a good job, where he'd advanced pretty far. Brain biopsies, experimental treatments, partial paralysis
at times, etc. But since their oldest boy's in college, and their oldest girl's taking college courses, finishing
highschool, and working, that leaves only 2 of their own kids at home, so they wanted to help some others,
too. Took on these, and welcome the challenge/rewards. Kids played in the creek, ate lots of goodies, looked
at all the interesting stuff we've got, played with some of my instruments, asked lots of questions. "Mom and Dad"
are loving and loved. Lincoln may have done some wrong, but also got some stuff pretty right- like, say,
"There may be times when you cannot find help, but there is never a time when you cannot give it."
After about an hour, the "foster kid" came up to me and asked, "are you Grandpa?"
I had to say, "Well, I'm one of 'em, for sure". What I thought was a bit stronger, though.
