One of my favorite stories about my daughter’s adoption is not so much about how she found her way into our family, as it is about how my son learned to be a brother.
He came home from school not long after I ended a phone call with our adoption coordinator confirming the court date to finalize the adoption. He sprawled himself on the middle of the living room floor and told me about his day. The school year was winding down, and he was excited to no longer be a high school freshman. His world was full of summer plans and football camp.
I let him tell me his news, and then I hit him with mine. “You’re finally going to be a big brother. What do you think?”
He was quiet for a moment, then sighed, “I wish I could tell you I’m excited, but I’m not.”
When I asked him why, I thought his answer would be pretty obvious. He had been an only child for 14 years. He would be completely justified in his hesitancy to share his parents this late in the game. He shocked me, however, when he finally put words to his worries. “I’m just afraid I’ll do something wrong.”
I smiled and reassured him I would help him learn the way of all things baby, thinking about diaper changes and basic baby sitter skills. Almost six years later, I can look back and realize he didn’t need much help stepping into his new role of big brother.
He was a pro at coloring inside the lines as well as encouraging self-expression with a little color outside too…
…and how to be stealthy when real ones are lurking behind the corner….