Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I met Oliver's state social worker yesterday. This is a really special treat, since she's only been on his case for ... oh, four months. Wasn't it sweet of her to come out and meet him since she's, I don't know ... in charge of the paperwork that controls his entire life at this point?
The worker--we'll call her Georgie--was actually quite nice. She seemed to genuinely adore Oli, which, of course, endears her to me that much more. And Oliver was quite a little charmer. I tell you what--he knows his audience. Detecting that this particular lady was keen on the "I'll throw a ball, you go get it and bring it back" game, he kept at it for a solid forty-five minutes. In between jaunts to find the ball, he managed to giggle, laugh, shout, dance ... pretty much pull off any cutesy two-ish trick in the book. It was edibly cute. Far cuter, actually, than the screaming fit he'd thrown for me as I tried to squeeze him into a pair of shorts that morning. But who's counting?
Georgie says that Oliver's case is very clearly cut and dry. Georgie says that she will be moving for TPR in November. Georgie says that she is going to try to convince Bio Mom that best-case scenario for her at this point is relinquishment. Georgie says that Oliver fits our family perfectly and clearly loves his mommy and daddy and brothers and sister.
Georgie says this will all be over soon.
This is what Georgie says, but I have heard too many social worker tales to believe Georgie fully. So I am still praying, fervently, without ceasing. Because the fact is, Georgie can SAY whatever she wants. It's what Georgie DOES that impresses me.