On Monday, Judah and I went to Knott's Berry Farm. We had a wonderful time. He is just the most fun person to be around. He's the kid that loudly hoots and laughs on the rides. He's the kid who raises his hand high and screams, "ME! PLEASE! ME!" to go up on stage. He's also the kid that initiates giving all of the Peanut characters high-fives once on said stage. He's the kid who talks to everyone before us and after us in line AND in front of us and behind us on the actual ride. More than just being a super extroverted person, he's just really nice and interesting too.
He talks about what he wants to talk about without hesitation.
To a little boy with a big sister behind us:
"I have a big sister too."
Is she here?
"She's in Ethiopia." I then nod to show him that I agree with all of his very true words.
Then he turns to me.
"Mama, my skin looks like chocolate milk. Is your skin black?"
No, my skin isn't black. What color does my skin look to you?
"Vanilla."
Yes, I think you're right (although the Mexican-pride part of me wished he chose a nice peanut butter cookie. I guess it IS winter).
"Mama, chocolate is sooo good. I love chocolate."
I do too. It's my favorite.
"It's my favorite too."
Judah is funny. Sometimes purposefully, usually not.
To Tommy, when he got a time out:
"Don't you know, I'm just a kid. You're a man. You should know that!" with hands gesturing to support each important statement.
I'm so glad that we have so much joy filling our days, because the adoption of our girl is killing me. It's been a struggling time for us, I'm not going to lie. Last weekend we had a few friends over and I was so thankful for the company and laughs. I needed it. We needed it. I'm just so grateful for our friends.
Our adoption has felt like it's been in a holding state for over 6 months. I know there have been steps. BIG steps that have moved us forward.
But.
Yes. BUT.
We still haven't passed court.
I know some people, lots of people, have had it much, much worse. I shouldn't complain.
But.
Yes.
BUT.
It hurts. So I'm going to.
My daughter, who IS my daughter (according to her and according to each and every one of my cells), needs to be with her family. We need her. We love her.
Our next court date is March 3rd. Our 5th court date. I think. Maybe our 6th. I've lost track.
