An Apple? Bingo!

Tonight, Traci, her mom Oma/Rita, and I attended a training class for foster parents.

As we drove to the class, Oma/Rita told a story of the last training she attended. Foster parents played bingo, but instead of letters and numbers, the clues given were descriptions of fruits and vegetables. For example, if the clue was "it's red, kinda white on the inside, crunchy, fruit, rhymes with Snapple...," then you would cover the apple on your card (if you could figure out the answer). There was no discussion of nutrition and prizes were not offered.

The purpose of tonight's training was to teach us about changes in rules (that don't affect us). We didn't play any games. High/low-lights of the evening include:

* A man sitting across from me, dumping McDonald's fries directly from container into his mouth. Finger-free fries!

* A woman at the same table who (a) kept asking questions about her foster kids and kept getting the same answer to talk to her case worker because tonight was a general discussion of rules, (b) ignored my stare/glare commanding her to be quiet, and (c) intensely scratched her scalp about every five minutes.

* Certificates distributed at the end of the class, proving that we survived. Maybe I'll frame it?

This mandatory training made me sad. I wish I could've gone to SuperDuper Awesome Chinese Buffet - that would've made me happy.