Babies, Government, and Thomas the Train

Today I held a six-month-old baby who was about the be taken from her drug abusing mother. She was teething. And she was smart and beautiful and sweet. Intensely sad. I sat with her and her two older sisters for an hour while "official people" decided what to do with them. Kinda not what I expected to be doing and it bummed me out. My mentee was bummed too. The sisters are her best friends. What can you say to kids who've spent months and years in CPS holding facilities and foster care? Just give them hope that it can be different, I guess. After they left my mentee asked me if it was usually dark or light in our house. Her mom sleeps a lot during the day. I told her we always open the blinds and have white Christmas lights hanging so our house is bright and warm. She wants to visit. At home I cuddled my boy all I could to ease the cracked feeling in my heart. I can't for the life of me understand putting anything before your child, and I don't get the appeal of drugs. Gus helped me vacuum and do a load of laundry, then we broke out his Thomas the Tank Engine playhouse tent thingy that I have been saving for the right occasion. He played in it all night, tired himself out, showed it to his daddy when the father figure came home early from rehearsal, then passed out. Good way to end the night. I want us to be a foster family when Gus is older.