OCR Text |
Show Shared Son 4 hand in his foster father's hand and lean on his shoulder for the rest of the evening. It was the first affectionate expression of a loving little boy. On Day Five our schedule included a haircut. I watched in amazement as the barber unveiled the handsome face of our new foster son. Wayne felt his head a hundred times that day and I heard him giggle softly on one of his numerous trips to the mirror. I was relieved to hear that giggle instead of a sob. Social workers had suggested that we have our foster children address us as Mom and Dad. This was not easy for Wayne to do at first. He could not give the title to two unfamiliar adults. One day when he had been with us about two weeks he forgot himself and called "Mom! The phone's for you. . . " When I appeared he was somewhat embarrassed, but from that time on he called us Mom and Dad. I never got over the special feeling it gave me to hear him say it, nor the feeling of responsibility I felt to fulfill successfully the role of Mom for him nine months of the year. For two days in succession he forgot one of his school books and called from school to say, "Uh, uh, well . . . this is Wayne. Could you bring my math book?" I was out of patience and planned to give him a scolding for being so careless, but when I reached the school he was out in front, so glad to see me and wearing his irresistible smile, that my resolve melted away. As the days went by, although Wayne was affectionate, he good-naturedly rejected my offer of a goodnight kiss. When I came to tuck him and John into bed it became a ritual for me to ask, "Do I get a kiss tonight?" His standard reply, "Nope!" But one day I noticed on his bulletin board a |