. . . on Saturday? Glad you asked. Orange County. My husband and I commemorated 9/11 by driving down to a Red Cross building in Tustin and attending an all-day conference on adoption. We were told it was mandatory for approval, and they don't hold them often. So there we were with 15 other couples who were also trying to go through this same agency. It was one of many classes, but the only all-day one. And as usual we felt that there was a lot of good material, but that the class was a bit long. I almost always feel that way.

Most of the other couples looked funny to me—ill-suited to each other, unattractive. I realized first that we probably look that way as well, and second that the reason was that it was early on in the process, and most couples were about to adopt for the first time. So there was still a bittersweet quality to the experience, as many were probably still mourning their infertility. Add to this the sense of a new, invasive experience, and it was the aura of uncertainty and discomfort I was picking up on more than anything else.

At one point my husband leaned over and whispered, "what if we adopt a monkey by mistake?"

I gave him a little smirk, and didn't roll my eyes, but I raised my eyebrows slightly and the look meant, "you don't get the laugh just because we're married. You'll have to do better than that."

"I mean, it would be cute and all, and we'd be really proud."

I started to smile.

"But what about when it finally became a toddler? It wouldn't really toddle, would it, just kind of shamble from side to side, and—"

I broke then, and started laughing out loud, thankful that we were on a break.

"—and start climbing. Wouldn't we feel like maybe we'd made a horrible mistake?"

"You're so evil," I told him. Which is what I always say. He knows it means I'm glad I married him.

Posted by: Attila at 06:11 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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