When Robin came to live with us, we continued taking him to a Wednesday night church group that his aunt had been taking him to (for consistency). We obviously had to give them our contact information, and it ended up blended with hers. Every once in awhile they do a mailing and we get a letter with her name and our address.
We called the twins yesterday. My husband likened talking to Fox on the phone with talking to Mickey Mouse on speed. Hysterical and probably accurate.
We are at the point in Robin’s transition home that he is spending significantly more time with his mom than with us. In case you were wondering what my husband and I do with our extra time, we bought Nintendo games we didn’t have and have been working together to beat Super Mario Bros 3.
When the twins left after their overnight visit, I tried to treat myself to a bath (i.e. a space to deal with emotions where there are no children or loved ones I could unintentionally take them out on). I settled in, rested my head, and then remembered that no less than 4 poopy butts under the age of 10 had been in the tub in the previous 24 hours. It was a short bath.
Today Robin announced that he would like to live with my mom until he dies.