Scrappy has been sniffing around again, clearly hoping for another invitation to please me. He still claims he is one hundred percent straight, but the way he fits in with my boys, the way he reacts to my authority, the way he watches me when he thinks I am not looking, tells me something very different. With enough time and the right pressure, I could bend him. I know I could.

The real question is whether I want a fourth boy. We barely have the space as it is. Our recent visitor, fosterboy, made that painfully obvious, and as my husband loves to remind me, supporting the three full-time boys we already have is a handful.

But here is the thing. We are planning a move.

Not just a new house. A full shift to a more rural environment with actual land. Space. Privacy. Room for gardens, workshops, outbuildings, and all the outdoor projects I want done without the entire neighborhood watching. If we make that move, there will be significantly more work to keep the property in the condition I expect.

And that means I would need another boy.

So, I made a decision. I am going to at least consider Scrappy.

No, I am not telling my husband yet. He tends to complain a lot less when I simply do what I want first and explain later.

I told Scrappy he could come for a formal interview. I did not tell him what to expect. Let him stew. Let him imagine. Let him prepare in all the wrong ways.

The interview is scheduled for this Saturday.

I will post all the details next week.

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