Don't Mess With (My) Kids.

My favorite kids are the ones who are a little bit of a mess.

As a teacher, my favorite kid was a foster kid who was taking a second stab at 8th grade, bound and determined to make it this time. He was small for his age and practically oozed ADD. He'd come in some mornings jump roping his belt, so wired he couldn't sit still. Other mornings though he'd come in an tell me about what books he was reading from the library; he loved Up From Slavery and told me all about everything Booker T. went through (apparently they were on a first name-middle initial basis).

That's why I love babysitting kids whose moms are recovering addicts. They're wild and crazy kids who have issues and history and smiles, who love to run around and have fun and give hugs. An hour and a half with them wears me out and cheers me up.

Last Saturday when I was babysitting, some of the older kids (2nd, 4th, 7th grade) told me about how they had an incident on the bus. Somebody was yelling at the 4th grader and throwing things at her. One of the moms who was helping me asked why the other kid was doing that. "He says we're drug house kids." The conversation came to a halt.

If I were on that bus, that kid would get a serious talking too—or worse. Like these kids don't have enough to deal with without some punk treating them badly. (Yes, I know I should have compassion for the other kid, too.) I would tell him how cool these kids are, and how smart, and how hard their moms are working to make things better. I can't imagine how it would feel as a mother to hear that your kid was being made fun of, and that you couldn't do anything about it, and that in a very real way you're at fault (on top of all the other guilt you're wading through). I hope these kids' teachers take the time and energy to have compassion for these kids, even if they're only at that school for a short time.

Most of all, I worry about the identity my so-called drug house kids are developing. Even though things are getting better with their moms, most have some ground to make up. Not to mention relationships with dads. (One "dad" sold his 7-year-old son's cat while he was gone.) I don't want them ever to think of themselves as "just drug house kids." I know they're worth more to their moms and the people who care about them. They're worth more to me. And they're worth more to God.