I tried Being a Foster Parent
Mood: reflective
Listening to: my heartbeat
The first dinner during the first day, 12-yr-old Seth was seated and ready to partake of his first family meal in ages. He was more accustomed to the group home, as he had been deemed a psychiatric adolescent and taken from his abusive parents.
Seated with us at the table were my brother and his wife, my grandma, an aunt, and my mother. The smoke was still rising from a sumptuous pot roast atop the dinner table.
My brother said grace and we all smiled at each other after the "amen." We were ready to dig in.
Seth then asked, "Will you excuse me while I go to the bathroom first?" I nodded in the affirmative.
But he just sat there, unmoving at first. Then he sort of squirmed in his seat, and manifested a wry, dubious smerking smile on his face. Then, a look of relief and a sigh.
The stench gave him away, to our revulsion. He just kind of chuckled to our reponse.
Well, back to the Group Home.
Psychiatric, indeed.
