Serious Chinese Baby.
Long ago, when I lived in London, I had a five minute romance with a serious Chinese baby in a McDonald’s. We passed a pound coin back and forth for a minute or two; I held it out to him, he’d gingerly take it from me, he’d study it, then hand it back. I pretty much decided then and there that if I were to ever have kids, I’d buy them from China. You know, the old fashioned way!
Since then, I’ve really never had a change of heart. My desire to have kids ebbs and flows (mostly ebbs). When I think about my actual age and circumstances, compounded by a well-intentioned doctor shrieking “decide! decide! decide now!” at me, I see that I have all but shut the door on me ever calving. And I’ve been pretty much fine with that. I read that lack of ticking sound to mean that I probably won’t ever be a mom. I like kids, but as the old saw goes, I really like handing them back to their moms.
Over the years, I’ve met and admired a few people who have adopted kids. There was the art director who had “two bio kids and four adopted ones.” (His words.) One of the adopted ones was an unforseen add-on; he had traveled to Kazakhstan to pick up one and ended up going home with two! The orphanage was having a BOGO, I guess. There’s my boyfriend from high school that just decided that adopting was the right thing to do, and when it was time to be a dad, he just started the process. There’s Angie and Brad. And now there’s Carol.
Carol is an amazing person and one of the bright spots at the agency where I work. She’s funny and grounded and down-to-earth, and really fucking tall. She’s married to an equally funny and tall man. They are in their 40’s. They work all the time. She’s also a producer here like me; I have no idea what he does. But I do know that he does it a lot. They are literally the last people on earth that I would have expected to become parents, but two weeks ago the baby shower announcement went out.
Carol showed me pictures of Wyatt. He has furry duck hair, and he wears a yellow cardigan, and he’s serious and Chinese as the day is long. He’ll be one when she goes to pick him up in two weeks, and she’s over the moon.
I might steal him. Or, at least, offer to babysit.
