From the fourth day she was with us back in April 2020, I knew Sprout was a ham with a huge personality.
The first three days she was here, she spent sobbing if I put her down. I held her for more than 3 days straight, including overnights, which I spent in an armchair not sleeping. We could not get her to handle not being held so I just went with it and snuggled her nonstop.
We had the added growing fear that she would not EAT, and was dangerously ill. She had failure to thrive and was badly malnourished. So I spent those first 70+ hours cuddling her and trying to get her to ingest anything. She arrived on a Friday evening, and we spent much of the weekend on the phone with her amazing pediatrician who was coaching us through every idea he had to try to prevent hospitalization and a feeding tube. We spoon fed her tiny drops of pediasure, and eventually discovered we could use a medicine syringe to get the stuff into her in a volume that would actually make a difference. We still were taking care of the twins, too, for that first weekend. It was hellaciously stressful, and by the time we got to day four I had to get some sleep.
She howled in fear if I handed her to Seth, so I’d been doing all the holding up to that point. But I had no choice. I was so sleep deprived I was bordering on delirium, so I handed her off to him and fled upstairs.
Three hours later I came back downstairs feeling much more human. There was no crying. There was… giggling?!
I found Seth and Sprout at the dining room table making silly faces at each other, and both of them were cracking each other up. I think that’s the moment I fell in love with this kid. She clearly had a hell of a lot of spunk! Sick and scared as she was, she found the strength to be goofy and giggle.
Within a week, there was a secret dark place in me that was hoping this was the kid who would finally stay with us for good. I never want to wish that on a child – separation from family is a terrible thing. But I knew letting this one go would tear me apart, too. Yes, that’s what I’d signed up for in becoming a foster parent: heartbreak. But all the friends who went through the training course with us had already adopted kids and stopped fostering, and we were still sending every kid home. A part of me, which I hate to admit I have, wanted one kid to stay for good. And damnit, this one was the one. She just suited us and delighted us endlessly! I still carry guilt about feeling that – wanting a child to suffer the permanent loss of a parent. It’s not a pretty thing to admit to.
Fast forward three years, and this kid a) is likely to stay, and b) is every inch as funny and sassy and quirky and lovable as I found her in those first weeks. She’s an absolute trip. The things she says crack up everyone in her life.
This was last week’s gem:
Sunny: “Look at my new pencils! I got them from my speech therapist!”
Me: “Wow, those are awesome!”
Sprout: “Are you going to share them with me?”
Sunny: “No!”
Sprout: “What if I touch them?”
Sunny: “No, they’re mine!”
Sprout, with a wicked grin: “But. What if I LICK them?”
Sunny: “Don’t you dare.”
Sprout, whispering to me: “Do you think she’d kill me if I lick them?”
Me, whispering back: “Yes. Yes I do.”
Sprout then gives Sunny a grin and an evil chuckle.
Before the morning was out, Sunny was washing her pencils in the bathroom sink. Ha!
Sprout’s fashion sense is highly developed and powerful. She’s opinionated and insistent about what she’s going to wear. Right now I’m adoring her emo phase. She’s 4 years old and is serious about her black. Ask her her favorite color and she’ll tell you it’s black. In the morning, she’ll ask to wear black, or will pick out something colorful with a tutu and pair it with black combat boots and a black pleather jacket. It’s absolutely amazing. Her favorite character is Wednesday Addams. Her second favorite is Cat Noir. In class pictures, all the girls are in pink and purple and blue, and there’s my kid on the end, shorter by a head and dressed in black and leopard print with a black bow in her hair.
Some of her fashion choices lately:
I honestly don’t know what I would do if something fell through on this adoption path. It’s utterly selfish of me, but I can’t help it. This kid has me firmly by the heart strings. The next step is a proceeding to terminate her father’s rights which should be straightforward since he’s never participated in any services and has fallen, apparently, off the face of the planet. That’s scheduled for June. Then we get an adoption worker assigned and it will be another 4-8 months from that point before the paperwork is all complete and we can do the actual adoption.
I can’t wait. I want it final that this beloved kid who lights up my life with her black wardrobe and fabulous sense of humor isn’t going away.
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