Safety Last

At 10:30 this morning, an inspector from our foster adoption agency came over to our house to see whether we had a safe environment for a child. We had diligently built a fence around the pool and a screen in front of the filter; we put plastic catches to make it hard to open a dozen cabinets, and magnetic locks to make it impossible to open another six without the right key; we put chains over our liquor cabinet and one across the door to the office cunningly fashioned so the cat could get in to his box but a toddler couldn’t get in or get stuck; we put plastic cushions on every corner of every hard bit of furniture; we put plugs into all electric outlets, and locking devices over the toilets; we put a rubber cushion around the bath faucets; we got a crib and changing table and linens.

The guy took about ten minutes to check it all off and say, “Looks good. Safer than my house.”

So we passed as “suitable for placement.”

We’re not quite there yet. They have to finish a report on us, and we have to go in and sign some papers. But there’s nothing we have to do now.

Ditto the novel. I have it in a dozen different people’s hands, and all I have to do is wait while they read it.

So what do you do when there’s nothing to do?

I’m going to work on the nursery. Get it painted and organized. Since I don’t know whether we’re getting a boy or girl or a set of siblings, and what their ages will be, I can’t finish the job, but I can get pretty far.

I can read books about how to care for a child between the ages of 0 and 3.

I can keep looking for babysitters and daycare centers.

I can go to the Pop Luck Club meeting on Sunday, and find out about all the things I’m too ignorant to be worried about.

I can look for more people in publishing who could look at the novel, and gently nudge the people who have had months to read it so far.

Considering I have absolutely nothing to do but wait, I’ve got a pretty long To Do List.