“Package,” calls out seven year-old Jamie as he gets out of his morning shower and curls up on the bath mat wrapped in a large towel. I come from the kitchen where I’m preparing breakfast to receive this daily delivery from my postman. He whispers, “What do you want it to be?” I suggest a cute, furry animal-mouse, kitten, puppy, polar bear, or a current favorite Pokemon character. He decides and the play continues. I ask for scissors: he spreads his first two fingers and imitates a scissors. I touch his two fingers with mine, which transforms them into the needed tool to open the large box waiting for me. I rub him dry with those fingers which loosens the tape on the box.
When I peel back the towel wrapping, I find small, wiggling fingers and toes. I squeal with delight at the beautiful baby animal waking up eager for care, attention, and play. I ask “Ooh, where did you come from?” He replies by smelling my hands and then reaching out to paw and kiss me. I pretend to be afraid that he might scratch or bite me. But he licks me and curls up in my lap and asks for a home. I respond with an outpouring of happiness that his squirrel, bear, or bird is exactly what I always wanted. I tell him I have plenty of room for him in our home and ask if he’ll come live with us. He always agrees!
Jamie’s dad leaves for work at 6 a.m. and often returns home for breakfast around 8 a.m. As he walks in the door, Jamie immediately becomes the newly arrived family member. I greet Michael and say, “I’m so glad you came home! Look who’s come to live with us, a little mouse.” Michael goes to Jamie, who nuzzles him, licks him, and receives cuddling and hugs from his new Dad. Thus begins Jamie’s day; he initiates this play routine every single day and has done so for as long as we both can remember. Jamie wrote the script, invented the roles for each of us, and found a ready partner for this play.
Jamie’s eleven-year-old sister, Nicole, sometimes receives “the package” delivery in the morning and is as happy about its contents as her parents, most of the time! She too was adopted as a baby and had her own version of this game during her preschool and school age years. Nicole was an unhatched egg each morning as she pulled the bed sheet over her head when I came in to wake her. I would feel the egg, wonder what could be inside, and wait quietly as I heard the pecking and wiggling of some tiny animal inside. First I would see a tiny paw or beak come out from under the sheet, then more tiny movements until the new baby was burrowing in my arms. She is still not too old to revel in reenacting her hatching on an at-home day.
These morning adoption stories are a vital part of our daily routine; in our family, none of us forget the choices that brought us together. These games are extensions of peek-a-boo, hide and seek, lost rabbit in the forest that is found and brought into the family-scenarios that children and parents have played for centuries. All of us treasure moments of being found when lost, being reunited after a separation. Children derive comfort, reassurance, and strength from acting out the nuances of feeling in this most basic of human experiences-seeking and receiving a home in a parent’s heart.
For children we adopt, these games and moments can also be reminders of a paradox they play out over and over-I can seek and find care from more than one mama or caregiver in life. These are normal, even welcome, exercises, and parents should not shy away from them. Children work at these understandings over the years and when all is going well, most of the work is play!
