Last night was interesting. As I mentioned yesterday, he would look like he was alright and would be engaged in play and then would cry. Such sad and forlorn sounds are his cries, seemingly from the depths of his little being. He would point out the window or at the door and would walk around the apartment searching for, we were sure, his foster mother. He just didn't know where she was, and he just didn't know how to get back to her. Then we would be able to distract him with something and he would be ok for a little while again, only to be crying again later on. He did eat a very good dinner but would not sit in the high chair at all. Jerry ended up holding him the whole time as I dished out multiple small servings of macaroni and cheese to our three hungry boys. He is also attached to a particular chair in the living room. He likes to climb in it and sit by himself. Him and those big sad eyes.
When it was bedtime, we tried all our tricks to get him to sleep either in our bed or in the pack and play, but neither worked. He preferred the bed over the pack and play, but not by much. The place he preferred most of all was the living room chair. He ended up falling asleep in the chair. It reclines slightly, so as soon as it was clear that he was in a deep sleep, I reclined it all the way to maximize the space on it, put some cushions on the floor at the foot of it, and I ended up spending the night on the love seat next to the chair. I might have fallen asleep at some point, but as soon as I would hear any noise, I would wake up, in case it was him moving about, so it was really the lightest of sleep. Then about midnight, there was all of a sudden some sort of concert nearby. Huh? It took about an hour before I could be sure it really was music, or was supposed to be music, as the singer (and I use that term extremely loosely) started belting out "My Way." It went on until about 3 in the morning, and there was no way I could sleep while it was going on. After 3, though, it was quiet again, and so I think I nodded off again intermittently. Morning came around 6.
Today although we stayed in the hotel all day, I am sure we have walked miles and miles and miles. The little one will pick up his shoes and bring them to either me or Jerry. We put them on him, and he wants to walk all over the hotel, as if he knows that his foster mother is just around the corner. But she is always out of his reach. I remind myself that it has not been very long since his separation from her, and they were together all of his two years. It is a tough adjustment for anyone to lose someone they love, and this is compounded in someone of his age. He is old enough to really miss her, but is so young that there is really no way to prepare him or explain to him what is happening.
I do think he has grown in his attachment to us bit by bit. There are points when he is having so much fun with us and will belly laugh. Or when we are out on one of our walks, and he will reach for my hand. It is a small step, but it feels like something.