The Ride Home

We expected Abraham just after Mother's day. Fortunately, our Maine winter had subsided and save for the coolest parts of the yard, all snow had melted away. There was still enough of a chill in the air to require a few layers. So we prepared a bed for him, set out extra blankets and an ample down comforter. We set aside a few of Owen's jackets in case he didn't bring any. Finally, we shoveled the toys out of the playroom to create some space for indoor play.

He came on a Tuesday. He arrived at the Portland Jetport with his eye doctor, Dr. Emanuel. Apparently, Abraham was extremely reluctant to go with his appointed chaperon, so the doctor accompanied him to her house. From there, Kimberly would pick him up.

She was a little concerned about the transition after his resistance at the airport. As it turns out, the presence of another boy about his age would be all the persuading he'd need to come home with them. On the ride home, Abraham was enamored with all the new scenery, New England homes, Maine trees, cars, different people and Owen's hair. In a moment of curiosity, Abraham gingerly reached out and patted the top of Owen's head. His straight, straw like blond locks must have been an unusual sight for someone who's lived his whole life in Ethiopia. Kimberly recounted these moments of transformation and discovery tearfully over the phone, relating how his reaction to Owen made it seem just right to have him as our guest.

On the other hand, I carried a high level of anxiety with me. How would we adjust to a fourth child? How would we relate and care for another family's son, who had little exposure to American culture, food or language. What kinds of mistakes would we make with him? How would we show him as much love as we show our kids and not make him feel left out?

When I arrived home, Kimberly briefed me. It turns out that Abraham spoke no English and he was utterly fascinated with everything in our house, especially electronics. He was jumping from one thing to another, pulling out toys, pushing buttons, popping gumballs and hoarding coins. He was plenty entertaining to our children who did nothing but follow after him and giggle at all of his reactions to our "treasure trove." I spotted him for awhile after he discovered a pair of roller skates. Then Kimberly let me know that she was off to a meeting, so dinner, baths and bedtime was up to me. No more time for anxiety, I was about to be initiated.

Turkey and carrots were not a big hit, but bananas provided proper appeal. Typically, the kids only change their minds twice per course, so I wouldn't make more than eight trips between the kitchen and dining room per meal times the number of courses. Potentially, only 32 trips per meal. Four drinks, four spill proof tops, four plates, four forks and four refills later, all children had eaten some kind of meal.

Sometimes, when the sun sets and bedtime approaches, I start hearing the theme song from the Twilight Zone in my head. I imagine myself trapped in a world where parentless children rule the world, staying up late, binding the adults as captives, dancing around the house all night, tossing clothing and dishes all over the house. Bedtime often feels like its headed in this direction.

We shifted gears toward baths and pajamas. Baths alone are enough of an event to sap the energy of even the most robust adult. By six o'clock in the evening, I am anything but robust. I typically wear full rain gear and sop up enough displaced bathwater to refill the tub. For pajamas, a fifteen to twenty minute hunt for 1 to 2 pieces of nightwear per kid is followed by no fewer than five reminders to stop doing acrobatics on the furniture and put on the pajamas (on the proper appendages). Once I could confirm that all children were wearing the correct sizes, we start the lineup for brushing teeth.

Finally, we headed upstairs for stories and bedtime. Abraham settled into his bed, I tucked him in, read a quick story, then switched on the nightlight and shut off the overhead. When checking in on them before heading to bed ourselves, Kimberly and I discovered that Abraham had crawled into Owen's bed and fell asleep beside him. He'd found a friend thousands of miles from home.