We met with an adoption agency yesterday that we are seriously considering. This was the first time we’ve done more than talk over the phone.
At some point in the adoption agency meeting I look down and notice the baby drool I picked up at a friend’s house has not dried and disappeared, but is a delightful stain on my shirt, a long line of drool stain. I draw my cardigan over the stain and catch a glimpse of Green’s sneakers. The sneakers are clean and in good condition, but sneakers. Then Bean shrieks with delight at the latest noise coming out of the contraption the agency has provided to occupy her and I think that someone else might not think her hair a delightful tousle of golden cherub curls, but rather unkempt. Perhaps they think all of us unkempt with sneakers and stains and tousled curls and maybe they think us not best candidates for adoption. Maybe we should have dressed for an interview. I notice my legs are beyond prickly. Crap.
Green laughs at something and Bean runs over and jumps in his lap. Screw it. I’m guessing these folks know that being a family isn’t all about being neat and tidy and really, baby drool should earn me a few points. Right?
ps. They gave us a couple of books to start with.