Soldier angel people things

The snow fell waist-deep, glistening white and almost blinding. It wasn't that cold outside compared to what it had been last December, but it was enough to keep all the kids inside.

John had them all gathered in the living room, ten rowdy boys of varying ages. The oldest, Michael, lined them up like cadets with their hands up in salutes and the tiniest boy sticking his belly way out.

"Ten hut!" He shouted. The boys, as if hit by lightning, shot stiff. "Alright you good fer nuttin lollygaggers." He started up, prowling in front of the line with a frightening scowl, just as he had seen in the movies. "We've got to straighten ourselves out. Battleplan!"

"Battleplan." Came the soft echo of many voices. The kids pretended to shake, acting fearful of their 'commanding officer' with suppressed giggles. One was almost red with the effort of clamping his mouth shut.

John watched quietly from the kitchen, scratching in answers to his Sudoku, wondering where this was going. Sometimes the kids got into crazy games of pretend, even the older ones taking part. It was endearing to watch.

"Battleplan!" Michael repeated. "Once this snow clears several families are gonna come. We gotta be polite! We gotta be perfect little soldier angel…people things. GOT IT?!"

Nine heads bobbed up and down.

Michael smiled for a split second but immediately plastered a fresh scowl on his face. "Our mission: get adopted!"

John felt a pang of sadness. That was the problem with being a foster parent. You got too attached.