This year, I became
a father for the second time. The first time was with our
biological daughter, Madison, who is now eleven. This time was
with Gracie Xiaolan, who is newly arrived in our country and our
hearts at age nine. You might think they are very different due
to their growing up in different cultures surrounded by
different people and experiences. You might even be right, but
then again…
Neither of them
particularly likes the meals I prepare. When they do, they eat
with reckless abandon, but leftovers turn their faces into
grimaces so priceless they should be featured in MasterCard
commercials.
Each of them takes approximately 45 minutes to get out of bed
and get dressed in the morning—when assisted. Without
assistance, I’m convinced they would die of starvation.
They both only move
at one speed, which would not be so bad, if that speed were
“hurry”. Unfortunately, when they hurry, it looks pretty much
exactly like watching clouds; there must be movement, but you’d
need time-lapse photography to tell.
I can’t understand
most of what either of them says to me, and one of them even
speaks English. You don’t need a language barrier to keep from
understanding a person. The fact remains: they are both
women-in-the-making—and there’s no getting around that barrier.
Madison and Gracie
are both undeniably my daughters. They are massively creative,
absurdly silly, and could spend all day on the couch watching
movies and eating popcorn. Yep, no need for DNA testing there.
On the other hand,
there are things that make me wonder how they could be my
daughters. Gracie is happy all the time, never moody and never
gets tired. Madison is frighteningly smart, can make magic
happen when she brings pencil and paper together, and doesn’t
like black jelly beans. These characteristics are so different
from my own, sometimes I do get suspicious.
Anyway, for a guy
who never wanted to be a dad in the first place, I sure am
strangely happy to be one in the second place. I wonder if God
wants to send a third one next year.