The natural posture of parenting bends itself towards protecting our kids at all costs. And rightly so in many ways. However, if opening our home to a foster child has taught me anything about being a parent it's that there is a fine line between protecting my kids from the dangers of being exposed to hard things and protecting them from the dangers of NOT being exposed to hard things.
Foster Care And What I Fear Most For My Own Kids by Jason Johnson
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Trent: Man, I could feed an army with this new smoker. Well....a small army. Ok...maybe a regiment.
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Texts with kids' social worker
SW: I almost fell out of a chair, I can only imagine how you must feel...
Me: Y'all's texts sometimes should come with a warning and an AED.
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Upon arrival at church
Trent: Let's park here by the Byases.
Me: They never park over here. They park over there.
Trent: I thought they had a small gray SUV.
Me: It's greenish, not gray.
Trent: A Nissan something or other...
Me: It's a Pathfinder. That's a Rogue.
Trent: Ok but they at least have a Nissan right?!?!
Me: Correct.
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Texts with my family after sending a phone picture of the kids' daycare picture proofs which are a mix of cute and melancholy "I will not smile for that camera"...
Sarah: Haha oh man, they both have the blue steel model look going!
Mom: What's a blue steel model?
Sarah: Google it hehe. From Zoolander.
Mom: What's a zoolander?
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Lady in Lowes: Are they twins?
Me: No, they're a year apart.
Lady: So basically you had twins the hard way.
Me and Trent, simultaneously, under our breath: You have no idea.
