The children are sleeping.
I read them bedtime stories. I tucked them in. I kissed their foreheads. We said their prayers.
Little "B" completely owns my heart. He hobbles around on his pint-sized crutches like he is flying. His r foot is still completely twisted and gnarled. It looks so uncomfortable. We are going to try to fix that next year when we are in Sierra Leone. We can only do one foot at a time.
When I was in high school I sprained my ankle and had to use crutches for a week. I was a miserable, complaining grump. And I was hobbling around on a good foot.
B never complains. He just smiles and tries to find Waldo (in a where's waldo book). We tried to find Waldo for a half hour tonight. I was unsuccessful but B found him.
When I was assessing his lungs he asked if he could listen. He listened to his heart, lungs, and stomach. I told him he should be a doctor. He is such a smart boy.
B's mom is not here. Neither is "S" mother. S is a seven year old boy who had a club foot repair done on Friday. He is very sweet. He's also a bit jealous that B has crutches already. S wants to get out of bed too.
Both boys have older sisters staying with them. But sisters are not moms. I tried to give them some extra love. They miss their moms and I know how that feels.