The firetruck kid
Lance.
I have never been as nervous as I am at this moment. Ford is watching me, his hand is squeezing mine tightly. He is as nervous as I am, but he is hiding his very well. My palms are sweaty. From all the overthinking that is going on in my head. We are at the home, Char is supposed to meet us here and I am already diving into my anxiety. Thinking of worst-case scenarios.
What if he hates us—what if he hates only me?
He is just a baby, I know that but I just want everything to be perfect. Ford said we will have to foster him for a couple of months. This is our first attempt at adoption and this has been the most important thing to me for the past couple of months. I just want everything to go well.
We are in the reception/living room of the place. I see children as they walk around and my mind wanders and thinks, with every child that he is the one.
"You are about to explode,'' Ford breaks the silence.