This past Monday was our LAST homestudy visit. Our wonderful social worker had met with us before. This time she met Judah.
I was expecting the obvious. He would run full speed into something and get a black eye. He would spend the meeting crying, screaming or attacking. Perhaps he would feel in a more reserved mood and say something like, "I want Taco Bell and cake." Especially since the morning began in a less than ideal way.
It was busy. I had all moments accounted for. The doctor's office opened at 8:30. At 8:30 I was to drop off my medical letter. At 10:30 the notary would arrive. The social worker was coming over and interviewing me from 9:00-10:00 (Tommy from 10:00-11:00). See how perfectly I plan stuff? Foolproof, right?
Judah and I arrived at the doctor's office (right after we stopped by the grocery store to buy fruit- yes, I decided at 8:00 that my home didn't appear to have an adequate supply of visual fruit- you are so lucky you don't live in my brain) at 8:25.
8:50...nothing, but I'm sweating. Not good for interviews.
8:52...the purple suit arrived.
Standing tall and wearing her purple power suit, she held a walkie talkie and proudly wore her badge.
She was drunk with power (which I may or may not have muttered, because Judah repeated "drunk with power" all the way home).
She told us that we would have to check in on the second floor. I told her I just needed to drop off something for the doctor. She took my letter and told me that I would have to turn it in on the second floor for review (which may take awhile), sign a medical records release, etc.
I explained why I needed it and that I needed it to be notarized at 10:30. I tried to be charming.
She told me that they "don't do that" and before I could respond ordered someone to "take her downstairs."
I just walked away.
It was 8:55. I was late and sweaty.
We had our interview. Judah was successfully more than charming. He didn't ask for Taco Bell. He didn't say anything about the purple power suit lady being "drunk with power."
He was his fabulous self.
After the meeting, I knew we had mere moments to get the letter to the doctor.
Judah and I have practiced being "sneaky" many, many times. We use this skill to sneak up on Daddy for tickle attacks. Judah is good at it.
When we arrived, I explained that we had to be sneaky. We had to sneak by the purple suit.
Judah tip-toed and whispered. We snuck right by her. The purple suit didn't even know the discreet operation going on right behind her back. We handed off the letter and ran. The letter was notarized. We picked it up after work. The purple suit still doesn't know that she was played by a frazzled, sweaty, desperate mama and a trained-to-be-sneaky two-year-old.
If you need a partner to do top-secret, rule-breaking jobs, Judah's your dude.