That may or may not be true. The state is asking for TPR the second week of December. All we can do between then and now is wait. I can't drive to The Babe's mom's house and convince her to get her life together, I can't wave a magic wand and erase his father's convictions, so we'll make plans as though the three of us have a future together.
I'm also trying to figure out how to incorporate Oz's family into our lives. Visits and invites to soccer games will most likely be out of the question for a number of years, as we would like our home to not be burned down (and lest you think I'm exaggerating like a freaky adopter scared of The Babe's parents, Houses Have Been Torched. Recently.). I don't know how we'll work it, what we'll initiate, if there'll be a response at all, but we have to try. To be honest, at the rate his parents are going, we'll have to do something soon, as one or both of them likely won't be alive by the time he turns 18. Maybe not even 8, actually. And that breaks my heart, that after more than three years of state intervention, things have only gotten worse. But The Babe will be safe. And that's the point of all of this, isn't it?
Meanwhile, more peanut butter playdough at my mom's house.
And more puppy playtime, too.