Family
◊ When I was about 4, my parents decided it would be a good idea to take in some foster kids. Now, my mom is physically incapable of doing anything in a half-assed way, so we didn't just become a foster family, we became Super Foster Family. For just shy of ten years, my parents were taking care of anywhere from two to six foster kids in addition to my sister and me. Over 75 kids stayed with us for anywhere from two days to two years.
People always ask "What was that like? That must've been so interesting!" They are stupid: I was a kid. I just existed. I cruised along, one of the mob, and didn't think about it too much. It just was.
I have a horrible memory, so honestly not too many of the kids stand out. I sort of remember the ones that were with us for a long time, but there are only a handful I never forgot: Peter, the sweetie; Teddy and Arthur, nice kids and out of control; James, the deaf kid my mom learned some sign language for; David, the little blond kid that was so willing to please that we got him to drink mud when we told him it was chocolate milk; and the hyperactive autistic kid who spent his one day and night at our house chasing us around the backyard and hitting us with a naked baby doll that he held by the hair and swung like a club.
So to those dozens of kids I've forgotten: Sorry. You know how it goes. You probably don't remember me, either. I was just another spoiled birth-kid.