Bob and I had been married just a little over a month, when we got the call from the Social Worker about Frank and Libby. We were told that it was a pair of sisters, Frankie aged 4 and Shawna aged 2. We were told to meet the former Foster Parent at the DHS offices in the afternoon. We were so excited. We got to the office on time and waited and waited and waited, and the other Foster Mom didn't show up. Finally she called into the office to say she was running late. Again we waited and waited, and finally she showed up with Frank and Libby. And Frank turned out to be a BOY not a girl and he was 3 instead of 4.
They were very quiet at first. Their old Foster Mom was an old lady in her 70s. I asked her if she'd told the kids that they were going to be living with us, and she said "Oh no. I didn't tell them they were leaving. But don't worry, they are used to going with strangers all the time, and it will be a long time before they figure out they aren't coming back to my house." That mad me SO mad. They'd been with her for over a year, and all they had to show for it was a bag of clothes that I wouldn't donate to the Salvation Army and a small box of broken toys. That was it.
We took them to McDonalds, and then on home. Libby didn't talk at all. Frank only said a few things. Getting them to go to sleep that first night was hard...but it didn't take them long to settle in at all.
I can't believe it's been seven years.
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