Our hilarious little boy is 11 months and one week old. He has seven teeth with a molar coming in (making for a couple of sleepless nights recently). He's cruising around the living room, holding on to furniture, and constantly going after remote controls, keys, and dogs. To add to his first greeting, "Hey, Roo!" (for Rudy the dog), he now calls me "Memmeee" and Stan "Dadada". Kisses on the lips are his new favorite trick.
Just shy of a year ago, we got a call from our friend Tena that she had met a young mother who was seriously considering adoption for her third child. Little did we know that we would be walking into joy out of the pain of childlessness. Six years ago, we had our first miscarriage. Eighteen months ago, our adoption fell through. If we had received that baby boy, we would not have adopted Samuel. I cannot even remember life without him. Oh, yeah, I used to nap . . . and shop by myself . . . and go to the movies with my husband. I'll take the trade!
So, so, so thankful to be drinking from God's fire hydrant.
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