She turns a page.“Describe the child’s daily routine,” she says.“Be precise.”
Maddie answers like she’s briefing a command post.“Up at six thirty to seven.Diaper, play, breakfast around eight—we rotate oatmeal, scrambled eggs, yogurt and her formula.She has a short nap around nine thirty, although she’s not seeming to need that as much, which I believe is age appropriate.We take an outdoor walk or play in the park if the weather cooperates.Lunch at noon.Free play.Developmental exercises—stacking, pull-to-stand, books.Second nap at two thirty.Dinner at five thirty.Bath.Books.Asleep by seven thirty if the gods are kind.”
“And when Mr.Karolak is home?”Porter asks.
“We do it together,” I say.“We both read to her every night.I’ll handle bathing if Maddie cooks, or we swap.I’m there for bedtime most nights I’m in town.”
Porter’s pen clicks quietly.She moves on without praise.
“Discipline philosophy?”she asks.
What the fuck?
“She’s a baby,” I say, before I can temper it.“What’s to discipline?”
Maddie places a steadying hand on my knee, her touch an electrical ground.“We use positive reinforcement, routine and clear limits as appropriate for her developmental stage.”
Ooh… that’s a good answer.
“Financial stability,” Porter continues.“Savings, insurance, provision for the child if either of you is incapacitated.”
“She has a moderate trust from her father, and I’ve started another that will vest on adoption.We have life insurance policies, of course.”
“Do you have a doctor for her yet?”Porter asks without looking up from her clipboard.
Maddie nods.“Her medical is current—immunizations, growth chart.We keep her records in a shared folder and you’re welcome to review.”
Porter does not seem delighted by our organization.She adjusts her glasses, and for the first time that I can recall since she walked into our home, she actually looks at Grayce.
“Ms.St.James,” she says, returning her attention to Maddie.“You intend to return to work?”
“Yes.”Maddie’s voice is firmer than before.“I’m applying for a child welfare position with the county.”
Porter doesn’t look impressed.“Won’t that destabilize the home environment?New caregivers, different routines—children of this age need a consistent attachment figure.”
My jaw ticks.“She’ll have one,” I say.“Two, actually.”
Maddie’s hand tightens on my knee, a silentI’ve got it.“Children benefit from stability,” she says.“They also benefit from caregivers who are fulfilled and supported.We’ll plan childcare appropriately and we’ll phase transitions.”
Porter’s pen scratches slowly.She tilts her head.“Explain to me again your support network.Family, neighbors, community.”
I breathe in, breathe out.We already went over this and I’m starting to feel like I’m talking around a gap in the floor.
“We have the support of my teammates and their families, who have been hands on already.Our neighbor two doors down is retired and has offered to help whenever we need.”
“Wait a minute,” Ms.Porter says, lowering her clipboard.“I’m not understanding how your teammates are part of this.”
“The Titans’ organization is a family.It’s been built on the promise of showing up for one another.”
Something flickers in Porter’s eyes and I can’t tell whether she likes my answer.
She looks at Maddie.“Ms.St.James.What about you?”
“I have…” Maddie falters and looks at me helplessly.“Actually, I have no one.”
Ms.Porter’s head snaps up and her mouth parts slightly as if she’s never heard of such a thing before.“No one?”She consults her folder, flips through some pages while her eyes scan back and forth.“Ahh, I see your background in foster care.”
I clear my throat.“Maddie has a new family now with me and the Titans.”
