It’s all or nothing: either you babysit every one, or you don’t babysit at all.

Over time, routines formed. Mason, Ellie, and Jamal grew comfortable with me. I watched movies, helped with homework, and shared meals. Slowly, I became part of their world. Small gestures, like Jamal explaining how Mason comforts Ellie during nightmares, revealed the depth of their bond and the unconditional love already present.

Then tragedy struck. Darren passed away in an accident. The children were devastated. For months, I stepped in to help care for them and baby Ava. I became a source of stability, support, and comfort. Through grief, our family unit deepened, strengthened by shared loss and devotion.

One evening, Ellie gave me a crayon drawing of our home, showing all the children, Clara, and me. Above my figure, in simple letters, she wrote: “Nana.” No qualifiers, no distance—just love. It was the moment I truly understood that family isn’t only about blood. It’s about who shows up, who listens, who stays through everything.

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