The other day I was at the children’s museum with the boys and I found myself doing something that I often wonder if people do when they see us.  My kids were playing in the rocks digging up dinosaur bones when a white couple walked up with a biracial little boy.  Both of adults seemed to act like his parents.  They were both very affectionate with him.  I found myself wondering.  How did this child become their son?  Then I wondered if he was their son.  Then I wondered if he was adopted.  What if he was just their nephew.  What if her first husband died.

You see I didn’t think it was odd that he was black and they were white, I was simply curious as to the story.  I find those things intriguing.  Although it is none of my business how any child joins a family, I love to hear the stories. I love to see “different” looking families,because I guess it reminds me of ours.

Funny thing is that I never think of our family as “different”.  I often forget that someone in our family doesn’t “fit”.  You see I think we all fit just perfectly.  I often forget that Deacon is black.  Not that I don’t see his color, because I value his color and we are proud of his color.  We are not color blind.  I guess we just forget that when we go out people might wonder about how we all got together.