Even super heroes once wore baby shoes. My youngest son, Harry, was adopted. I call him my chosen child. The rest of his family are tall white folks. He was tiny until he became a teenager and started playing football. Then he started to look like a super hero. He was also really agile and wiry. We were all lanky and rather clumsy. He was in love with football, dinosaurs and superman. He was the one who was always wondering off and I spent many hours in frustration looking for him. A favorite trick of his was to climb to the top of a tree in our front yard and sit there quietly, watching us below looking for him. He loved that tree too. It was his private place. He would climb up and wedge his football in the branches and then place his dinosaurs around it to protect it. Once when we were traveling and had to leave the hotel early in the morning he refused to wake up and was a super crab when he did. I told him to go lay in the back of the van while we packed it up. After the packing chaos and finally getting everyone in the van, we took off. We had some family friends with us as well so it was all a confusion of action, suitcases and plans. Harry's friend spoke up about an hour after we were on the highway and asked where Harry was. I said, "In the back sleeping." He said, "No he isn't." I of course panicked and imagined all the horrible things that could happen to a child alone in a huge hotel. We sped back. I was a nervous wreck and drowning in guilt. When we arrived back at the hotel, he was eating in the restaurant. Another quality of Harry's is that he always kind of looked like an orphan and people were always giving him stuff. He wasn't too upset, until, once I was done fawning over him, I let him have it. I don't think he ever wandered off after that. Go Figure!
