"Family" and other funny words

I keep having to reminding myself these are not foster children. There is no chance I will have to give them back. Unlike the other child visitors we have had living in our house, these girls are not going anywhere. There won't be some frenzied social worker popping in once a month to check on us and make sure I haven't sold the little darlings into hard labor or asking about the bruise on their arm. I am free to dream about the extra Christmas socks I need to make, the camping vacations this summer and of college educations no matter how unrequited those dreams may be. These girls are MINE, I tell you! And no one can take those dreams away. Now, I just have to believe it.

It is so good to see the language barrier being peeling away, day by day. Like a parent of a child learning to speak, it always delights me to hear they now know the seasons or kitchen implements or action verbs. We have been concentrating on learning our name, address and phone number in case of emergency. I found myself chanting our phone number to the beat of a rapper being played in the car as I drove Tanya to a friend's house nearby. Hey, it worked. Now she can't listen to that song without hearing our phone number. (I just hope she can remember the phone number without the song.) The spelling of the last name is another challenge, not easily mastered by any Christofferson. I'll give them more time with that one.

On the war front, I have met with the Principal of Boulder High School. Josh graduated from there. I know it to be a school that is academically excellent and very diverse culturally. Emphasis on the diversity. (I've also heard there are Russian speaking kids there.) Mind you, I didn't want to talk to the Principal, he was just kind of in the way while I was waiting to talk to someone else. They are never positive, those principals. The assistants are always more accommodating.
"I'm not running a babysitting service," says the Principal.
"I don't see why she can't come," says the Assistant Principal.
"There are only six weeks left," says the Principal.
"Sounds like she could use the connection," says the Assistant.

All that said, the assistant still has to talk to the grouch to get his final approval. I got on line after returning home. I found a name in the staff that I recognized. There was a particularly helpful counselor at Josh's middle school that is now a counselor at Boulder High. I shot her off an e-mail with our story. I should know by the end of the week if my efforts were in vain . . .