You lose sight of things… and when you travel, everything balances out. – Daranna Gidel
A moment of clarity wakes me from my slumber and I am ready to begin the morning unsure of what the day may entail. Crawling out of bed and walking barefoot down the narrow hallway on the mocha colored concrete floor, I reach the living room where I have the unfortunate timing of catching Michelle embarrassingly reading a pop-up book both upside down and apparently from left to right. Wondering how much shame they must feel for their daughter, I'm prepared to take on another set of adoptive parents, this time from Canada with Momma Dukes and Padre Maffia so they don't lose all hope for the youth of the world. After a grueling thirteen and a half hours of explaining to her that this ten-page book is not in Hebrew through my elaborate tricks of crayon drawings, sock puppets, action songs, and full costume reenactments, I have made a believer out of her. Rewarding myself with a long well deserved self-pat on the back, I’m on a roll and anxious to put out another fire, and so, I go in search of Lindsay. Still dead to the world, asleep face down with her woobie tucked tightly under her right arm, suddenly there’s a horrible squeaking sound. Assuming that this will definitely wake Lindsay from her slumber, I look over to see her still sleeping soundly, and then realize the noise came from her rubber pants. I suggested plastic sheets, but she said she wanted more freedom of mobility, all while having the protection she so sorely needed. Unable to argue this, and leaving her asleep in the back room with her secret shame that I’ve quickly exposed, the rest of the morning is spent reading and making a yellow star shaped Sheriff’s badge, just in case anyone questioned my authority.