We went to an adoption celebration the other night and at the dinner party, I realized that we know three families who have adopted children in the last year. That’s a lot. I always said that I’d like to have foster kids or adopt kids, but so far it hasn’t happened and currently, we feel challenged enough taking care of our kids and our own relationship. But it still lingers as an idea and I really love that we know people who have become foster parents and then taken the step to adopt (and been fortunate enough to have things fall into place!).
We have a book in our house that I didn’t care for the first time I read it, but later became one of my favorites. It was also one of the stories my son loved and so, at night, when he was stressed out from waking up and being tired and full of anxiety and angst, I’d tell him the story and he’d snuggle in and go to sleep (not always quite that simple!). Anyway, the story of Choco is the story of a little yellow bird who has no mother. He asks several animals if they might be his mother, but they don’t look like him and they all point this out and say they are not his mother.
And then, when Choco feels discouraged and begins to cry, a Mrs. Bear who is nearby hears him, swoops over and talks with him about his feelings. He describes what a Mom would do (hug, kiss, hold, sing) and Mrs. Bear does all these things. She then invites him to her house and offers to be his mother. At her house, there are three other young animals, presumably all ones that now call her “Mom” and none who are bears. It’s a sweet simple story that ends with a bear hug.
I’ve referred to this book when we’ve talked about the kids we know who have been adopted. My son makes the connection and he likes the book and he knows the kids and it seems to sit well with him.
The other night, we came home full of pizza and cookies and ice cream, and while brushing our teeth I commented about how wonderful it is that we know three families who have adopted children and then my two and a half year old son said, “And a pick”.
“And a pick?”
“And a pick.”
“Sweety, I don’t understand. And a pick?”
“Three families and a pig.”
And there I smiled and thought I have the most beautiful child in the world. A while back, a pot belly pig came over to our house for about fifteen minutes. He was a pig that needed a home and we were willing to take him in if one couldn’t be found. We certainly did not need a pig, but I knew we could give him a good home until we could locate a better home in a warmer climate. Luckily, he found a good home here in town with another family.
And my son remembered.
Of course, a child and a pot-belly pig are not the same thing at all, but I love ever so much that my boy believes that everybody deserves to have a family.