komplexify!

Dear Butterfly,

On April 17, you turned one year old.  Hurray!

Although we’re so happy to know that you’re growing bigger, it was still a melancholy sort of day for us, your family waiting on the other side of the world to meet you.

Right now we’ve finished all of the paperwork we can, and are waiting (ever more impatiently) for our Travel Approval, when the government in China will finally let us — your mom, your dad, your big sister, and many of your grandparents — travel there to Guizhou to bring you home.

It’s a hard thing to not be able to see you or know more about you.  Some adoption agencies let families send pictures and toys and keepsakes to their daughters while they wait for travel approval, but unfortunately ours, due to some archaic interpretation of some Chinese bylaw in some book, does not.  (Indeed, this is one of the aspects that frustrates your mother to know end, as she reads about other parents throwing proxy parties for their daughters in your very orphanage, while we can only sit lamely by.  Then again, partly due to the fact that this wait continues to linger on, your mother finds a reason to be frustrated with with the entire process only on those days that end with “y.”)

Nevertheless, even though we could not share this first milestone with you, we did celebrate it in our own way here at home.  Your big sister, the Ladybug, thought it would be appropriate to have a Chinese dinner in your honor, and so we shared a small feast in your honor, sharing a slice of birthday cake and singing a round of Happy Birthday in your honor.

Happy birthday, kiddo.  We miss you!

–Ba ba

In order to save the heathen souls of me and my daughter, the Queen B decided to take us to church for Easter Sunday.  As we settled into the pews to wait for the service, the Queen B sifted through her purse to find some cough medicine for the little girl (who has been a little sick).  In the process, she found a pair of 3D glasses she’d pilfered from the movie theater a few nights previous.

Not surprisingly (given the location), the Ladybug started asking questions about God.  Also not surprisingly (given the location), the Queen B felt my answers might lead to an errant lightning bolt or two during the service, so she decided to field them.

“Where is God?” the Ladybug asked.

“In Heaven,” said the Queen B.

“Where Papa K and Papa F are?” asked the Ladybug.

“Yes, that’s right,” said the Queen B.

“Can I see God?” asked the Ladybug.

“We can’t see Him here on Earth,” said the Queen B, “because He’s up in Heaven.”

“What does God look like?” she continued.

“Well, we can see Him all around us in everything we see…” tried the Queen B.

“Oh,” said the Ladybug.  A moment later, she grabbed the B’s purse and pulled out the glasses.  She slid them on and started looking around the chapel intently.

“What are you doing?” asked the Queen B.

“I’m trying to see God in 3-D.”

The Ladybug was playing with her new doll who, in addition to having eyes that close and anatomically correct naughty bits, also sports a cool pair of purple Crocs.  The Queen B and I happened upon her as she was struggling I get them back on her doll.

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“Sure,” she sad, and handed me the doll and the shoes.

As I attached them to the doll’s feet, I noticed that they were similar to a pair of Crocs the Ladybug’s had outgrown the previous year.  “These look kind of like your old Crocs,” I noted.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“I wonder if these will fit on your feet,” I joked.

“No,” she said incredulously, adding “I already tried to put them on.”

The Ladybug is in full conversation mode, and she’ll strike up a conversation with just about anyone, often with amusing results.  Here are two examples from today’s outing:

The Ladybug and I are at Hot Topic, looking for “Perry the Platypus” tee shirts.  A sales gal walks up and starts talking to the Ladybug.  In true Hot Topic form, she’s got green hair, thirty-eye Doc Martins, and enough facial piercings to transmit and receive radio signals.  As they’re talking, the Ladybug point’s to the girl’s day-glo flower-covered  JIMI HENDRIX belt.

“Oh, I like your belt,” says the Ladybug.  “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” says the sales gal.

“Is it Hannah Montana?”

The Ladybug and I are at Dairy Queen sharing a Blizzard.  As we eat, a pair of Army soldiers in sand-colored fatigues sits down at the table next to us.  The Ladybug leans over to them as smiles.

“Oh, you guys are all matchy!  That’s so cute.”