Two hours later my arms start to get tired. Last night when I prayed for strength I didn't actually mean physical arm strength...God gave me what I needed just the same. A little girl in a jean dress taps my leg wanting to be held. I can't just put down my fellow motorcycle rider, so I double up. And there I was - dude who was too scared to hold his friends newborn a month ago, holding two kids at once. "You know her story?" I turn to see a Catholic priest with long hair and Birkenstock sandals surrounded by kids. He was from Florida and he spoke Creole. "She was found in a trash can." This beautiful little girl? HOW!? She takes me through the whole alphabet in French before running off to play with someone else. She has an amazing laugh.
The bell rings. Time for lunch. I set Harley down in his crib and get through half a bowl of rice, beans, carrots, and egg before getting a firm "I'm done" head shake. I try again... "Dude I said I'm done!" Finished, he reaches up his arms to be picked up again. I'm told it's nap time and so instead, I offer up my finger for his little hand to hold. Waiting for his eyes to close, I start to slip my hand away and for the first time in hours he starts gearing up for some wet works. Okay, okay. Finger back. I wait, hoping he'll fall asleep before we have to go. No luck. He stares up at me as I pull away, but he isn't the only one that feels like crying.