Uh, yeah.

This weekend, I took the boys to a park and later to the pool with a friend and her two boys. After hearing the same question repeatedly throughout the day, the friend said, "I can't believe how many people have asked you if Matthew is adopted!" Yes, it's true -- each and every day someone says one of the following:

"Your baby is beautiful! Is he adopted?"
"Your baby is beautiful! Is she adopted?"
"Did you adopt him?"
"Did you adopt her?"

or, the always classy,

"Is that a little adopted child?"

In case you have forgotten, I'll just remind you of what we all look like:


Typically, I smile and say, "Yes, he's ours through adoption!" Depending on the tone of the question and my mood, however, I do sometimes fantasize about other retorts including a puzzled, "Why?" or a glance to each child followed by, "Which one?" Can you imagine their faces? (No, I've never done it. I'm far too polite.)

In general, I don't mind the question too much, unless it is followed with prying ("Did his mom have other kids?"), platitudes ("Isn't he lucky!") or stereotypes ("Was his mom really young?") I'm still on the search for a nice way to say, "None of your business."

Sometimes, the question is asked by someone who, it turns out, is in the midst of the adoption process. I love these questions because it is always nice to talk about adoption with someone who is actually looking for answers, not just satisfying their curiosity. At the pool, I was approached by a potential adopter. She swam up, a little sunburned face and wet red hair, and gave the customary introduction, "Did you adopt him?"

"Yes," I replied. (Yep, went for the simplest answer.)

"I'm going to adopt someday," she said. But then, this, "Maybe even a black kid. I like black kids."

I couldn't get too bent out of shape -- she was about eight years old. It actually reminded me of my sister, Stephanie, throwing a tantrum when we went to visit my mom and new baby brother in the hospital. This was back in the day of shared rooms and my mom's roommate happened to be African American. "I want the black baby, I want the black baby!" Stephanie screamed. And, no, we didn't get to take the black baby home. We got stuck with Zack.

Oh, well. He's not too bad.