Bring out your sponge!
So the girl who asked me for milk a week ago just stopped by and asked for a spare sponge. That, I happened to have. I felt strange inviting her in, so I sent Celeste out and told her "Wait here. Guard her with your life." To the girl, not to Celeste. When I got back with the sponge, the girl and Celeste were in a wrestling match due to the fact that Celeste thought she was going outside to potty. Instead, she got to wrestle with a child, which happen to be two of her favorite things COMBINED. That she got to go potty soon thereafter was like a mondo bonus.
Also, my neighbor got me candles for Christmas. Now I feel obliged to make her cookies or something.
I like her and if I ever have spawns of satan, I want one just like her. I bet she was a good young kid too. I know this because she let her younger brother ride shotgun. This was really nice of her, and I wanted to yell that at her as she was getting in the car. But I didn't, because that would have been weird.
I will save you all from the paranoid thoughts this little encounter brought forth in my mind.
Actually, I won't. It's my journal and I can be all paranoid.
1) MY GOD WHY ISN'T SHE IN BED? But then I realized not everyone starts getting ready for bed at 8pm at night and promptly shut that thought down.
2) MY GOD WHY HAVEN'T I MET HER MOTHER? This is a valid question. I haven't, in fact, met her mother. I mean, wouldn't her mother want to meet the lady who doesn't drink milk but has ample supplies of sponges? Or, you know, the lady who is being visited by your 11-yr-old daughter?
3) MY GOD, ARE HER PARENTS BEATING HER?!? I shut this question down real fast. I thought maybe she was reaching out to me, a perfect stranger, because I might save her from a life of abuse. I mean, I'll keep my eyes open and shiz-nit, because this IS the halfway house but I'll just assume the household doesn't have milk or sponges (Occams razor and all that).
So there.
Also, my neighbor got me candles for Christmas. Now I feel obliged to make her cookies or something.
I like her and if I ever have spawns of satan, I want one just like her. I bet she was a good young kid too. I know this because she let her younger brother ride shotgun. This was really nice of her, and I wanted to yell that at her as she was getting in the car. But I didn't, because that would have been weird.
I will save you all from the paranoid thoughts this little encounter brought forth in my mind.
Actually, I won't. It's my journal and I can be all paranoid.
1) MY GOD WHY ISN'T SHE IN BED? But then I realized not everyone starts getting ready for bed at 8pm at night and promptly shut that thought down.
2) MY GOD WHY HAVEN'T I MET HER MOTHER? This is a valid question. I haven't, in fact, met her mother. I mean, wouldn't her mother want to meet the lady who doesn't drink milk but has ample supplies of sponges? Or, you know, the lady who is being visited by your 11-yr-old daughter?
3) MY GOD, ARE HER PARENTS BEATING HER?!? I shut this question down real fast. I thought maybe she was reaching out to me, a perfect stranger, because I might save her from a life of abuse. I mean, I'll keep my eyes open and shiz-nit, because this IS the halfway house but I'll just assume the household doesn't have milk or sponges (Occams razor and all that).
So there.