I'm blogging right now to try to get away from the accusatory voices of the presidential debate on t.v. I know, I know. I should be more involved. I should care. I will vote (thanks, ladies of the early 20th century, who helped the rest of us ladies have the opportunity to vote).
But after days of angry parents and angry social workers, I just don't like the intensity. I'll read it in the paper tomorrow.
The highlight of my social work this week was playing with a precious, blond two year old girl, who held my hands, jumped up and down on her "big girl" bed and wanted to sing "Row, row, row, your boat."
This meant that Lisa sings the song, and Little Girl sings, "row, row, row, row, row, row, row." Foster Adopt Mom, who didn't mind a smidge that Little Girl was using her bed as a trampoline, smiled gently. On a whim I asked Little Girl where her mom was and her eyes got huge, her smile bright and she squealed and pointed to Foster Adopt Mom.
Thanks, Foster Adopt Mom. You've done a good job and I've got a beautifully adjusted and attached girly-kins on my caseload. I don't worry about this Little One when I go home at night. ;)