"Have a Nice Trip. See You Next Fall."

Last night I took Drama Boy, Sparky, Squeaker and our respite kiddo, J, on one of our "good citizen walks." This time we walked from our house to the nearby WalMart, picking up abandoned shopping carts along the way and returning them to the store.

Despite my pre-walk lecture about staying together, not being loud, rude, inappropriate or otherwise obnoxious, the kids climbed in and out of the carts, ran off the sidewalk, played bumper carts, ran a cart into a fence, did not stay together and were generally loud, rude, inappropriate and obnoxious.

And, just to prove true the old cliche that "no good deed goes unpunished," my flip flops hit some water as I was crossing the street and I slipped, slid, flipped and flopped, landing hard on my knee and rolling backwards into the gutter water. Since we were still a few blocks from WalMart, I decided to continue on, dripping and squelching along the way.

Half a block later, the sidewalk was slick from sprinkler run-off. You guessed it...down I went, this time doing the splits and landing again on the same knee. Not a perfect landing, but at least this time I wasn't rolling around in the middle of the street.

We finally made it to the store, stowed the carts and walked back home without incident (with Sparky cheering me on "there's some water...do you see it?...be careful...don't fall...yay, you didn't fall...good job!) but I don't think I'm going to wear those flip flops on a public street ever again.

Good Reminder

Sometimes, for some reason, we remember fondly our years taking "crisis" foster placements. What were we thinking? We had houses next door to each other and took 5 or 6 kids each, either new to foster care or changing placements. We had a lot of really good, fun kids. And then there were the others that were not so fun. Usually change-of-placements-bounced-around-in-the-system-awhile kids...which should tell you something about how effective the foster care system is which is a whole other story.

Anyhoo, for the next few days we are providing respite care for another family in our agency so they can take a break. J has been here before. Eleven years old and doesn't have to listen to anybody. He's not exactly belligerent or anything, just doesn't listen. Walks away. Out the door, away from messes, as you're talking to him. Any time, any place. Doesn't listen.

Squeaker is also obnoxiously busy showing off. Manic laughter, rude conversation, and loud voices have prevailed since yesterday afternoon. The boys' room is trashed.

While Ana was sorting family pictures to give to some of our former foster children, all the kids joined in looking at old photographs. Upon seeing a picture of our younger brother in the Army and hearing that our other little brother just signed up and starts boot camp soon, J said with a smile, "I bet you're going to be sad when they die."

Well, he got the "lecture" from me and I finished by telling him don't ever again say that to anybody who has a family member in service to our country.

But then, of course, he doesn't listen.