Harold: Mommy, Daddy I have a story.
Us: O.K. go ahead.
Harold: When I was born I had a different Mommy and Daddy and they couldn't keep me. Then, then, then you came and picked me up and took me home.
--A moment of shocked silence--
C.O.: That's right and we're happy we could get you. We love you very much and we're glad we're a family.
Hugs and kisses all around.
Harold: I'm hungry now.
We have never sat down and "told" Harold that he was adopted. In fact, I doubt he knows that word, adopted. But we talk about the concept all the time. We point Guatemala out on maps, always referring to it as his birthplace. We read a book called "Adoption Day" about a couple getting their child after a long plane ride. When we're around obviously pregnant ladies we tell Harold he was never in my tummy, he was in a different mommy's tummy. It's all just a part of our reality. It appears to be all coming together for him, before the age of three! We're blown away by it. Harold continually reminds me that children understand far more than we give them credit for.
We don't want his story to be a mystery to him or anyone in Harold's life. Even before he could understand, we would tell him his adoption story. It's obviously paying off.
Our hope is that the days of adoption being hidden, secretive, something slightly shameful in society is over. We hope that adoptive parents and children will be proud of their past and unique story. They have been loved by so many people, their birth parents, perhaps foster parents, adoptive parents, each doing what they thought was best for these special little people.