Boychild ...

... will be staying with me at least through October. Send bacon.

We had a meeting with his caseworker. Words were said. Sad things were talked about. I can't take him and sister both -- they won't let me because my house only has two bedrooms -- and lots of other things happened that make his math grade seem like a petty concern. But I can't fix the other things. I can fix math. And I can feed him bacon.

Me: "What do you want ...

... for dinner? We can make a pizza and each pick our own toppings. Or I can do pork chops and potatoes."

Kid: "... Can I just have like a ... big ... meat sandwich?"

Me, a 12-year-vegetarian who now eats meat but still gets squeamish about it: "A big meat sandwich?"

Kid: "Yeah. With, like, ham? And turkey? Maybe bologna? And roast beef? What's that yellow and white cheese called? On those big kind of bread?"

My life is different than it was last week.

RECIPE

Big Meat Sandwich

y. 1 serving

Ingredients:

Those big kind of bread (first go, we used Italian bread, and second go, Kaiser rolls, which were better received)

That yellow and white cheese (Colby Jack, Provolone, and Sharp Cheddar)

Big pile of meat (Ham, turkey, and roast beef. I talked him out of the bologna because stuff adds up!)

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 350.

Assemble Big Meat Sandwiches (2).

Bake until cheese starts to run.

Do not add condiments. Why would you even ask about condiments? Gross. You're weird.

Feed to boychild.

Repeat for 3 consecutive nights.

I'm not saying ...

... I went into fostering so I could put children on horseback and convert them to horse-crazy lunatics like myself just so someone would finally play Horse-opoly with me.

I'm just saying that's one of the perks.

(Bonus: replace game pieces with tiny pony toys from childhood.)

Me, out loud, ...

...  for the fourth time, "Up and at 'em, kiddo, we're going to be late!"

Me, in my head: "Oh, thank God, he's running late, I can sit and finish my coffee!"

In ...

...  the car this evening, passing a glowing billboard, I had the "foster an older child" version of the "where do babies come from" moment:

"What's the Lion's Den?"

He ...

... is clean. His homework is done. And if we were awake till after midnight, well, I'm new at this and you can't win 'em all!

I fed him ...

... spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread at 7, with chocolate pudding for dessert. We both fell asleep early. He woke me at 9:30 to ask if it was OK if he ate some cereal. By "some," he meant "all."