Woman Has Tears In Her Eyes When The Foster Kid Begged Her To Stay A Few More Days. But He Never Expected This.

“Well, that’s a good idea,” I told the eyes that knew too much.

“I don’t like beds.”

And so he slept in a chair. A big, round easy chair with soft cushions and a back that reclined. He slept there for three weeks. In his clothes. He wouldn’t change, wouldn’t undress, wouldn’t do anything involving bedtime.

When we finally moved him into a bedroom, we found out about the windows. He said there were things looking in. I assured him nobody could get up that high on the second floor, but reason is not a part of fear. And it was a fear.
I could see in his eyes there was no bargaining with treats, as we had to get him into the bed. And so I put a curtain over the glass. Not good enough. The edges moved in the air current and that would never do. Somebody could peek in through the gaps, he told me. So I pressed the edges of the cloth against the wall and duct-taped it closed. No more window. Problem not solved, only the symptom.

On his third day in our home, the boy said to me, “Can I live here a long time? Like three months?”

“Well, three months isn’t very long,” I said, not realizing his history.

He narrowed his brows in thought.”How ’bout till I’m thirteen?” he asked, apparently thinking he’d come up with a bargain, something we could both live with.
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