Our family is different. We understand that. We have embraced that. We wouldn’t ever, ever change that.
While statements we received early on in our family pilgrimage used to shock me, they no longer shock me anymore.
At lunch the other day, a random elderly woman pointed at my son with a darker complexion and asked, “Did ya’ll adopt him from Chile or something?” I didn’t know whether to give her an etiquette lesson or a geography lesson.
Amanda actually beat me to the punch and said, “Yes ma’am, we do have two precious sons.”
“No, I said is he adopted?”
“Is he adopted? He was born in another country, but yes, both of these precious boys are our sons.”
We are learning that when someone puts our son in an awkward position, we take the focus off of him and put it on our family. Because he’s different just as much as our other son is different. And we are. We are a family through and through.
And no, we didn’t adopt him from Chile.