Those ties endure even after the children have left ACS's sights. On a recent afternoon, 4-year-old Smooch scampers around Boyd's Crown Heights apartment, playing with Boyd's adopted daughter Audrey. Smooch used to be one of Boyd's foster children; now that he's back home, his mother frequently leaves him with Boyd when she needs a break on weekends. "I never desert a child," declares Boyd.
She wakes up at six every morning, because she must spend an hour getting Audrey, who is mentally retarded, washed (she wets her bed), fed, dressed and out the door for her school bus.
Why has Boyd put in all this effort, for so little? "I'm an advocate, a fighter," she says almost automatically. But there are humbler reasons, too. "All day we fuss, we argue--then as soon as they're away for an hour, I'm actually lonely. If I send them to stay with my daughter for a night, I'm afraid all night. They're my inspiration--they're my joy."



