It hit me sometime yesterday afternoon that I really enjoy watching my certain additional child. That, and if/when I move out, I won’t be able to watch him anymore. That made me sad.

He’s a really good kid. He was in a bad childcare situation before and I volunteered to watch him after I said a few nasty things about the daycare center his mom was going to put him in. The same one I worked at in January? Yeah, well.

The first couple of weeks were rough. He was cussing – a HUGE no-no at my house. He ran around like a madman, jumping on furniture and shooting people with guns. My kids wanted him to go away and would refuse to play with him. He wanted to play his DS all day long and I put a time limit on it. We couldn’t walk anywhere without him running off the sidewalk and through gardens. My kids were constantly telling me all of the things he was doing wrong and I was pulling my hair out by the end of the day. Frankly, I had my hands full.

Fast forward to this last Monday night. I got a phone call from his mom, making sure we were back from out trip and ready for him in the morning. Turns out he had been counting down the days until he got to come back. He actually missed me. I greeted them at the door on Tuesday and was rewarded with a great big, sleepy smile. He’s been so well behaved this week, he’s like a different child. I can tell he is used to the routine now and his mom has been happier with his behavior at home.

Yesterday, the only thing I got on him about was running and jumping head first into the pool – it’s way to shallow for that, but it did look fun.

It’s good to have him back.

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