Our Lives on the Hill

For those of you who have expressed concern over our poor fish with chronic "intestinal" issues (who is absolutely no one, by the way), I regret to inform you that he is no longer with us. He swam the good swim, but it was his time. Well, actually I sort of murdered him. I prefer to think of it as euthanasia. I believe that he was calling out to me for help and he found that help when I dumped him down the toilet and with one flush sent him on his way. While I respect life, even aquatic life, I have to say I'm relieved that he's gone. The fish was occupying too much of my time. I was blanching peas for him, for heaven's sake, when I don't even take the time to prepare myself a PBJ! I was cleaning his tank every other day and trying to keep the water temperature steady...all for a $7 fish which I thought I could call back from the dead like Lazarus. So I freed myself from the bondage of caring for this little thing and flushed him. Does this make me a terrible mother? Don't answer that.
Speaking of terrible mothers....another Halloween has come and gone. It's my least favorite holiday with the high point being rummaging through the kids' candy and stealing my favorites (you know you do it too). Having only had Will home for two months, I tried really hard to give my children an offer they couldn't refuse while giving myself an absolute out from taking them trick-or-treating. I eloquently baited them with promises of a nice hot bath, fuzzy pajamas, pizza, a good movie while relaxing in their sleeping bags, and all their candy favorites. Or they could freeze to death outside going house to house in the darkness dressed like goons. Their choice. What did they pick? You got it. Option B, darn it.
Sooooooooooo just to recap, I explained to our newly adopted son that we were about to dress up as fantastical people who we could never actually become in reality, go out into the cold blackness, knock on the doors of strangers, and beg for food. I'm quite sure Karen Purvis wouldn't approve. I mean, what kind of mother does that to her new child? Oh, you got it. ME! Yes, you bet I did. Why? Because it's an incredibly normal thing for a kid to do and Lord knows that this child deserves a bit of normal. It took him a few houses to be assured that we weren't about to trade HIM for a Butterfinger, but then he got it. His faced revealed the simple truth of this strange holiday: I say one phrase and then someone puts something delicious into my bag for me to have. I love this country! After that he started running up to doorways with zeal and delighting at whatever treat he was given. It was so wonderful to see him having fun and to see Molly, Grace, and Ben holding his hand and helping him up stairs or down pathways. Kids just being kids.
For all the reminders I have to give myself about how William is not like other children at this point, I have also to remember that he is a normal kid in many ways. He loves candy. He thought dressing up was hilarious and all he knew was that if Mommy and Daddy were there along with sissys and bwuther--then it must be ok. So here's to more days spent with my normal kids doing normal things. Carving pumpkins and sticking goolish window clings to every transparent surface is just what Will needs to edge out the kinds of experiences that children should never have. Let's just hope he doesn't ask where the fish went!