As I was checking in with my folks today, my dad says…”I remember the day when Catholic Charities called to tell us that they had a baby girl and that we needed a three bedroom home before we could adopt her.”
I became 5 years old again, eagerly anticipating to hear the story (again) of when I was adopted.
He goes on to say…”Your mom and I stopped by Grandma and Grandpa’s to tell them and they said that there were houses being built up the hill in Crest Hill.”
At this point, I have both hands on my chin, taping my foot and just waiting to hear how excited everyone was of my pending arrival and the details of how adorable I looked when they first met me.
“And that’s how we bought this house”
End of story.
*For the record: I was a cute baby and I’ve been told my family was ecstatic.