On Stumbling Toward Fatherhood

Kevin here! I know, I write maybe one in five posts here, and those probably go unnoticed except by those intrepid readers who notice the faint "Posted by... " text at the bottom of each post. This probably means I will love our daughter 1/5 as much as Jen will.

Anyway, WE GOT THE LETTER OF APPROVAL! We got it a few days ago. This is big, huge, gigantic news. This is the fulcrum of the massive lever of paperwork involved in getting her here. Everything before this was the application process, and everything else after this is just hammering out details. This marks China's official blessing for us to come and bring our little girl home.

I got to sign it. It was on really fancy paper with shiny watermarks and everything.

So we're headed into the final lap of this three-plus-year marathon! Exciting things are certainly afoot, but I've been slowly coming to the realization of how completely clueless I am. I'm sure this will sound trite to those who have experienced parenthood already, but there's a tiny part of me that's freaking out that I'm going to travel to a foreign country and they're going to hand me this tiny person and I'm supposed to just know what to do. There are a few steps missing in my brain between "change first diaper" and "attend MIT graduation."

I'm probably looking at this the wrong way, and I have a feeling other parents will tell me that this is all part of the grand adventure. I have a grand confession to make, though, and I don't want to shock anyone or send anyone calling the authorities: I have never changed a diaper. Ever. My experience in the daily operations of turning a human larva into a viable adult is surprisingly limited considering the sheer volume of younglings present at any given family gathering on either side.

Last weekend, Jen and I had the opportunity to babysit her brother's kids overnight while they had a night out. Neither of us had babysat anyone since we were both maybe 13, so we were both a bit nervous. Jen's nephews are two boys, 4 and 6, who are remarkably self-contained, for lack of a better term. We played in a tent set up in the living room, played a game of "wolves vs. tacos" (don't ask), watched Cars 2 (way better than the first one, I thought), made brownies, and goofed around with our two dogs.

Right at 7:30, we announced it was time to get ready for bed and they both went straight to get their jammies on, brush their teeth, pick a book to be read, and say their prayers without complaint (I should note here that the younger one made sure to thank God for the robots and the dinosaurs).

The next morning, one of our dogs was whining to be let outside at about 6:15 a.m. When I got downstairs from the guest bedroom where we were sleeping, I saw a strange glowing light in the corner. When my eyes focused, I saw that it was the older boy who had awakened, went downstairs, found his dad's iPad and was quietly playing a game, sitting on the heater vent under a blanket. We never heard a sound, even though he had to walk right past where we were sleeping.

When their parents got home the next morning, we had one burning question: how did you do that?

These are the questions that sometimes sneak into the edges of my waking thoughts. I already love that little girl and want to be the best dad ever. In the meantime, I'm more excited about China and finally SQUISHING THOSE CHEEKS (after an appropriate adjustment period) then ever before.

We're coming, Eleanor!!