Last year in September we vowed: “no more kids.” No matter what. We simply do not have the space, or the time, to devote to the four we already have. True, they’re all adopted, and at least three were originally intended as foster children, a temporary situation that sidled into permanence without us really noticing. But we love them intensely; even Cor, who believed for years he was allergic to them (until Panchita arrived to prove him wrong). I’m amazed at the wonderful dad he’s become. I never thought he had it in him to wake up in the middle of the night for them, or cut a party short because it was feeding time, or retell their escapades like a proud father. Amazing, truly.
So yes, we decided no more. So what, I keep asking myself today, is that little white furball, all teeth and growls and terror-stricken eyes, doing in the corner of my porch?
