But as time passes, I am starting to learn that the exact opposite is true. Our precious child is loved by so many many people. She is a beacon of hope and a source of inspiration for all who come into contact with her and it’s really pretty special to get to be a part of that. People seem naturally drawn to her.
It’s quite amazing to see how no matter where we go, this precious, special child is always the center of attention and fawned over by most people. Her Sunday School teachers jostle each other to be first in line to care for her. The principal of her soon to be playschool has made special travel arrangements for her. I could go on and on with all the examples.
On Wednesday we received news that Home Affairs have finally issued her with a new ID number and her name has officially been changed so she now has our surname. We headed off to the Spur, yes folks, that’s pretty much the most comfortable place for toddler baring parents to go, for a mini celebration. There is a young Indian man who works at our local Spur as one of the managers. Ava has taken a shine to him in a big way, I think its her first crush. When she see’s him, she immediately breaks out into a huge smile and extends her arms for him to take her. Every time we go to Spur, Walter and I get to enjoy some quiet time as he invariably will come to fetch her to get a balloon, play outside, push her on the swings, whatever. This week, Walter told him that Ava is adopted and shared with him our great news. He, in turn shared how he too was adopted and what a blessing his adoption had been for him. It was very special, I wanted to cry. The next thing I knew, we had sparklers and ice cream, on the house, and Miss Ava once again had a room full of adults wrapped around her little finger.
Two of my cousins are adopted and when I was growing up, the youngest one, as a toddler, would say: “I’m special, I’m adopted!”.
‘Tis indeed true, they are special because they’re adopted.