As fate would have it, all of the girls, except two, in the fourth grade are adopted. And one of those girls has two moms, so the joke is that she is adopted (by one of the moms) as well. Any of my doubts about choosing the right school vanished.
Last night, after Zucchini’s Girl Scout troop did a service project for kids in foster care, she felt more comfortable talking about adoption than she ever had. She shared bits of the other kids stories and we talked about different types of adoption.
Carrot asked, “am I adopted?”
“No, honey…” And I was going to go over the two parts to adoption (termination & adoption) when carrot started to cry.
“Are they (zucchini & pumpkin) adopted?”
When social workers are talking about carrot, we hear the phrase “as unaffected by the system as she can be.” Because she didn’t suffer any huge abuse or neglect, and was only in one foster home, her experiences are minimized. She does not understand her story, and craves permanency.
Like clockwork, after the “a word” (or visits, or their biomom…) is mentioned, she hit someone.
I told the kids what I pray every day, that they may know how special wanted, and loved they are.
Tucking the girls in at night, I told them how happy I was that they are here. Sleepily, zucchini whispered, “me, too.”