September 17. The long day.

This was a very hard afternoon. I was outside with the kids for three and a half hours. We had two seven-year-olds. And the rest were under five. Two babies that could walk but not talk, about eighteen months. It was a long day. Much of the playground equipment is broken or falling apart. The boys love to climb the monkey bars, and everything is always a competition. The babies just wandered around- the girl had just gotten there. Her eyes were absolutely gorgeous. She wouldn't even look at us for several hours. Then, out of the blue, she walked up to me, put her arms up to be held, and layed her head on my shoulder when I picked her up. It broke my heart to see this sweet little girl transition from untrusting to being completely desperate for comfort and protection. She was so precious. An older boy tried my patience, showing nothing but hatred and anger for everyone. He stood on the very top of the playground equipment again and again, and told the newest girl to shut up. He stood for half an hour on top of the monkey bars yelling, "NO!" as I repeated gently that he would be on time-out as soon as he got down. I explained how he hurt her feelings, and how using the equipment improperly would be dangerous. I kept reminding myself, "Be consistent, be consistent. Hold true to your word." I knew that this boy has likely never had consistent discipline in his life. I never yelled. I never screamed. I never hit him. But that would've worked a lot faster, I'm sure. These children are so broken. They are so used to being scolded and beaten that a gentle, "Please get down" does nearly nothing. Finally, after his dinner was cold and all the others had gone in, he apologized to the girl and me and was wonderful the rest of the evening. It was fascinating.
The girl he told to shut up, a seven year old who had just arrived, told me about herself. "I just got here. I'm seven. I'm staying the night here. I don't know when I'm going home. They told me awhile. What does that mean? How long is awhile?"
How do you tell a sweet seven year old that awhile may be more than just one night?