My foster daughters from two houses over are here and have been for hours. At one point they got a notion that their father, Conspiracy Guy, my stay-at-home, homeschooling-dad neighbor, might take them to the pool, so they ran home to ask him. Five minutes later they were tumbling through my door again.
Me: What did your dad say?
Girls: He said we can't go to the pool because he's got too much work to do.
Me: Oh, what kind of work is he doing?
Youngest Girl: I don't know, it must be sleepy work, 'cause he's sleepin'.
I say again, how nice for him.
My thinking has slowly shifted on these children. I no longer resent the massive amount of free childcare I provide. Or I don't resent it as much as when they were smaller. Now I'm actually thinking, not to sound immodest, that being in our house with our family is an enriching and good thing in their lives. I'm getting better at seeing them as little people with needs and with growing, moldable minds, and not just as little people who leave my fridge door open.
I am not always as nice on the inside as I should be, y'all, but I am trying.