One of the things one we have acquired through the adoption process, in addition to two new daughters, is a social worker. Case worker sounds nicer, but in my mind I always use the more ominous sounding term. Even though my eldest daughter is about to become one, the word still strikes fear in my freedom loving, homeschooling heart. This morning as I stumbled into the kitchen in search of morning coffee I began a mental list of things I would never want the SW to see.
1. Three empty wine bottles on the kitchen table at 7 AM.
2. What I was wearing when a child climbed into my bed at 4 AM.
3. The outfits my new daughters choose most every morning. I try to edit their clothing before we go out in public, butI don't always remember.
4. My kitchen floor, an hour after it has been swept for the fifth time today. I'm not kidding.
5. The pile of laundry in my bathroom.
6. The number of hard-boiled eggs, bananas and oranges we consume every day. The resulting compost pile on the kitchen counter.
7. How slowly our computer is running since our new daughters have pressed every button and flipped every switch in sight.
8. The way the girls shreiked when they saw their older brother with coconut halves taped under his shirt.
9.The four large lizards we are babysitting for the rest of the semeste
10. The candy I bribed the girls with at the hospital blood lab.
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