OK. Can I get real with you for just a minute?
Of course I can. Why would you expect anything different from me? I’ve been trying to keep things authentic ever since I started blogging oh-so-many years ago. So this post isn’t really going to be any different.
This whole adoption journey that we’re on?
I’m not talking Pat Robertson weird. And this isn’t necessarily a bad kind of weird. But I promise you:
It’s weird taking a teenage boy and dropping him into your family. It doesn’t matter where he’s from. It doesn’t matter how many classes you take or seminars you watch or workshops you attend beforehand. It’s still going to be weird. I mean, teenage boys are weird to begin with. Right? I know. I was one. And I even thought teenage boys were weird when I was a teenage boy.
And it’s even weirder when you aren’t fluent in the same languages that he speaks. It leads to all kinds of awkward conversations. And it also leads to some unexpected misunderstandings. And some uncomfortable silence.
I told you. It’s weird.
But let me tell you about this kid.
Oh, this new son of mine…
He is pretty stinking amazing.
He is incredibly jeh geh nah (that’s Amharic for “brave“).
He is generous, even when no one would expect him to be.
And he is a bit of a goofball.
While we were walking through a nearby department store a couple of days ago, he grabbed this bicycle helmet and stuck it on his head. He was quite impressed with the mowhawk attached to the helmet.
“Dad! Take a picture!” he shouted to me.
So I did.
Because when your teenage son who has only been home with you for a month asks you to take a picture, you eagerly oblige.
Is that weird?
Probably. But we were already weird to begin with. So what makes this chapter of our life any different? Not much.
And I’m OK with that.