Noah

Noah arrived early and small, to a mother who was herself still a child in many ways. She tried. The village around her was too thin to catch them both when things fell.

At eighteen months, Noah was placed with a foster family who had been waiting for a toddler. Their older son, adopted from foster care himself, calls Noah his "little man." The house is loud, warm, and full of goldfish crackers.

Noah is all motion. He runs full-speed toward people he loves and toward squirrels, which is most of his day. He just learned "please" and is deploying it with devastating effectiveness.

The early years set the rest. Stable meals, early learning time, and the kind of boring consistency that builds a confident three-year-old.

Diapers, developmental toys, and a childcare subsidy that lets his foster parents keep their jobs while Noah gets the attention he deserves.