Random things . . .

Random thing #1: Tale from the T.
Libby, Leilei, and I were riding the Orange line to Chinese school last Saturday. I was drinking coffee, and the girls had snacks. Across from us, on the largely empty car, sat a dad and his young daughter--she might have been 6. As the girls and I chatted, I noticed the girl whisper something to her father. I listened to the girls with one ear, and with the other (mothers' ears can operate independently) I listened to the father give his daughter a very reasonable explanation of adoption. "Those girls needed a home, and the mother needed a baby" variant. Though it was close to explanation I use myself, I nonetheless felt a bristling of my emotions. "He doesn't really know us," I thought.

Random thing #2:
Libby, Leilei, and I were leaving church, the church we attend weekly. Actually, it's usually just Libby and me, but this time Leilei asked to come along. Both girls behaved well, for which I was grateful. It's crowded at the main door, so we were moving kind of slowly, and close to other families. Behind me a child said, "Chinese people!" in a tone like "puppies!" I mean, there was nothing really mean or derogatory about his tone. Still, my head whirled round like Linda Blair's, and I gave the boy, again, probably about 6, a hard stare. His father said, "What did he say????" and then, to the boy, "What did you say????" I said, "I think he was just making an observation," but I didn't smile. Libby and Leilei were oblivious to the whole thing. "Sorry," the father said, and we walked away. I saw the father stop to talk to his son. I wondered what he was saying to him.

Random thing #3:
At bedtime, the girls and I were looking at books. Leilei was looking at a picture book of photographs of China, and was enjoying it, commenting on the pictures. I let the girls take their books to bed, but when I was kissing Leilei good night, she said, "Mama, can you take my book and put it away?" I asked her why, because I knew she had been really into it. "It makes me a little sad. It makes me miss my . . . my babysitter . . . " (for a minute, she had forgotten what she called her, but then) "my ayah." Then, sheepishly, "I still miss her." Of course she does. She lived half her life with her. I told her again that we will go back and visit someday. But when Leilei asked "when?", I wished I could tell her a definite date.