So, I went to some friends' house after work. They're also doing foster care, but they have a crazy house: 2 babys under 9 months, a 5 year old, and a 7 year old. I don't envy them.
Anyway, like I said, 2 babies. I held the 9-month old for a good 10 minutes. There's something so perfect and pure about babies. They don't know how to hate; they love unconditionally (or whoever has their bottle). They're very good at letting you know when something's wrong, but they're also really good at letting you know when they're content.
This little butter ball sat on my lap and just bounced away on my knee for a while, then he started getting jealous of the 4 month old who was being fed. He started crying for a bottle, so I rocked him back and forth for a bit until he calmed down. I let him suck on my fingers (probably not the smartest way to go; he looked like he was battling a pretty bad bacterial sickness, based on the color of the snot that kept dripping out of his little, red nose), and he seemed to be okay with that.
Of course, as soon as the bottle was ready, I had to go. But it was a nice break from the last several days.
I've always appreciated my wife for the unconditional love she constantly heaps upon me. I'm not sure I've ever gone through a more difficult time when I've needed their support more than I have the last week.