This time, my cheeks heat for a different reason. I’ve always wanted to help people, and I love kids, so becoming a licensed foster parent seemed like the right thing to do.
As a single person with crazy 12-hour shifts and rotating days off, I can’t take on a permanent placement, but filling in during emergencies is the best of both worlds.
Now to break the news to Ruby that I’m unavailable for drinks.
Two Hours Later
As I navigate my living room on my hands and knees with a three-year-old on my back, I question the sanity of my decision.
“Keep going. Faster,” Steven squeals as he bounces his heels into my sides. Thank God I made sure he took off his boots when he came inside.
“I’m trying, buddy.”
“Faster!” He laughs as I pick up the pace, swaying and lurching up and down with each movement forward. He loveserratic motion as much as speed. And my knees are killing me because of it.
I glance at the clock above the television. Thirty more minutes. I need to entertain him for thirty more minutes before the bedtime routine kicks in.
It’s easier when I watch Eve and Russell. They have each other to entertain themselves. Steven is the only child that Josephine has in her care. Her biological children are older teenagers who can stay by themselves while she’s away.
By the fifteenth trip around the room, I slowly gravitate my head to the ground, then my shoulders, and let Steven slip to the floor, collapsing beside him as he giggles. His head whips around. “Again.”
Jesus. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath.
When the doorbell rings, I’m ready to kiss whoever is on the other side of the door. I don’t care if it’s my 64-year-old neighbor with his tube socks yanked up to his knees wanting a cup of sugar. I’m dropping to my knees in thanks.
I launch off the floor and yank the door open. Ruby stands in the hallway with a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream in one hand and, in the other is a plastic grocery bag and a bottle of Ibuprofen.
“Funny.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Are you implying you don’t need these? I can leave and take them home.”
“No.” I grab her arm and yank her inside. “Come on in and thank you.”
“Where’s the little monster?” She searches behind me and laughs.
Shit. I’ve looked in the other direction for over thirty seconds. He could be into anything by now.
I spin around as Steven slaps his hands on his hips. “Where’s mine?”
Thank God he’s not swinging from the ceiling fan.
“Don’t worry, little man.” Ruby transfers the bottle of Ibuprofen and the container of ice cream into the crook of her arm and digs into the grocery sack. “This is for you.” She tips her head sideways. “If…. you help get the room cleaned up.”
“What is it?” He eyes her suspiciously, like she could have a vegetable in there, trying to trick him.
She’s right. My living room is trashed with toys strung from one side of the room to the other. But it was a blast. Steven has been through so much, going from place to place to live. Thankfully, he’s still a happy boy.
Ruby waves two dinosaur toys to his delight.
“Let’s race and see who can pick up the most things. Steven, you get the black basket, and I’ll take the white one.”
“I’ll help.” Ruby deposits her items onto the table by the door and snatches up the white basket by my feet. “Let’s make a game of it. I’ll set both baskets on the coffee table, and whoever gets the most toys in their basket wins.”
“Yes!” Steven jumps up and down, pumping his fist into the air. “I win!”
“You haven’t even started yet.” I can’t help but smile at his antics.
“Say go.” His eyes dance with excitement.
