Over a busy, noisy family dinner in an Italian restaurant celebrating my Dad's birthday we told my folks they were going to be grandparents. There was a surprising silence, a little like the entire restaurant had heard - I was a little drunk so maybe the entire restaurant did hear - and then lots of congratulations. And then questions.
Why would you want to adopt an older child?
I thought you liked babies?
You're adopting from the ministry? Don't those children have ... you know ... rough backgrounds?
What about a surrogate, to keep the genes going?
When will you pick up the child?
How long have you known about this?
Will you still go to Paris if you have a child?
Won't it be dangerous to live downtown with a child? The suburbs would be much better ...
And so on ...
I immediately deflected it all, talked about losing faith that my younger brother and sister would start the family making process (my sister was across from me and I got the best stink eye ever) and start pouring more wine for everyone. Wine makes it all better.
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