The unlikely has happened, and wee little man has made it through the night. I can't believe it. I thought he was a goner after my first attempt to feed him. He gurgles and wheezes for a while after eating. But he crawls all over me. He squirms out of his pouch and up my neck, under my hair. Then I can't resist.
"Zaccheus, you come down!"
Cricket is NOT happy at the moment. I thought she might be helpful with the fostering, but she won't come near me when I have him. And she doesn't like the smell of him on me.
Today will be interesting as I have a few errands and church this evening. He will have to come with me. I can't leave him alone for too long because he eats about every two hours. I set my alarm during the night so I wouldn't make him wait, but I needn't have. He woke me up just fine, thank you, with his demands.
FEED ME NOW! I'M STARVING!
I just hope the kids don't get too attached. I'm trying to be cold and factual like the Dread Pirate Roberts. "Good night Wesley. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."
I wouldn't do THAT, of course. But I'll tell the kids, "Good night children. Sleep well. He'll most likely be dead in the morning." This way they think I've pulled off a miracle if he survives another day.