Remember Daddy?

Tiniest:  "Remembo when my mommy boke that drawoo?"

Daddy: "Mommy didn't break that drawer buddy,  daddy just needs to fix it."

Tiniest: "No, not this mommy,  my udder mommy.  She boke the drawoo and she made me go back to bed,  even dough it was daytime!"

Daddy: "Buddy,  what other mommy? What color was her hair?"

Tiniest:  "It was yeyo. And you were in her bedwoom and she broke that drawoo."

Daddy, fighting tears:  "Buddy,  that wasn't me, I've only ever been your daddy here,  with this mommy." 

Tiniest,  confused but reluctantly conceding: 

"Ip you say so, but dat makes no sens." 

He shrugged and toddled off. 

But the reality struck us at our core. 

Our tiniest came to us at 21 months,  didn't speak, couldn't walk, had never had solid foods, and yet, he has lived another life. 

This is foster care, this is adoption from hard places.  

The prayer is for healing in places they can't even express.