From the mouths of babes

Yesterday, Mark's friend Tyler came over to play. Mark said something silly about Tyler being adopted, and Tyler just looked at him blankly.

"Mark's adopted," I explained. "That's why he's joking about it."

"Oh," Tyler replied, but I could tell he didn't really understand.

The adoption revelation stuck with him. Later, the boys were playing in Mark's room, and I heard them talking about it.

"Where did your mom get you from?" Tyler asked.

Mark didn't quite understand the question, so he said, "She got me from America."

"Yeah, but from where?" Tyler persisted.

"Um, from EARTH," Mark answered, a bit snotty.

Tyler tried another tact. "Did she get you from a house?"

Mark snorted. "Yes, I was in a house."

Tyler: "Were you by yourself?"

Mark snorted, "No."

Tyler: "Did she say, 'Can I have you?'"

Mark, summing up my two-year-journey to bring him home: "No, it was just a regular adoption. There were lots of papers to sign and stuff."

And that was it. The adoption discussion was closed, and they went on playing Legos. I giggled to myself at the whole conversation, at the child-like questions and the simple answers. Mark doesn't usually like talking about things that make him different, like being adopted or having diabetes, but sometimes, like today, it's not a big deal at all.

Except to me. And to my heart, which was spilling over with pride at my little man.