We had another therapy appointment yesterday. It went fine, involving mostly kicking Hub out of the room and the therapist watching how Huck and I interact. Nothing earth-shattering. Of course, he was sweeter and kinder than he is at home, so whatever. Only toward the end did he show a bit of his normal behavior. He exhibited about half of the "invitations to play" that she would expect from the average child. But these were new toys and games, so he did a lot of asking what things were for, then going to the other side of the room.
We've now got all sorts of appointments lined up. Developmental and psych evaluations, three months of therapist appointments.
I think Huck has pretty much broken me in. Except for while Hub is out of town for more than 4 days, or when we tried to explain adoption, the things he does don't hit me that much. It doesn't even suprise me anymore that such a little child can have so much anger and pain inside of him. When the local news runs stories about how judges and the public are outraged that children are sleeping in their SWs' offices, I get confused, because where else would they sleep if they can't find a foster home?
My new normal is ... well, it just is. It isn't bad, it just isn't always good.