Isaac, good job!

What a wild ride this adoption train has been!  Over the past year we’ve adopted 3 children–2 boys and 1 girl.  Backing up to include Annabelle, we adopted 4 children in the span of 23 months.  That’s meant quite a bit of change and adjustment to the family personality profile, among other things.

We’re still learning each other, but Isaac is definitely cut from different cloth than the girls we’ve adopted from China (and why shouldn’t he be, right?)  They were eager to try to learn English, while he seems pretty content to allow Josie to translate for him.  They have been slow to make friends; Isaac came home from school the first day declaring that he’d made lots of good friends already.  The girls have been pretty quiet, choosing to observe and go with the family flow.  Isaac wants attention, even if it means that he has to whistle or bang around the kitchen to get someone to notice him.

Tonight he rolled out the door with me to take Annabelle to basketball practice.  He took his homework with him, which I checked while the girls warmed up.  A few minutes later he and I were locked in a 1 on 1 battle to 21, then Annabelle’s coach (Pat Sullivan!  YAY!) invited us to join them to scrimmage the girls.  Isaac is playing in the boys’ league through the YMCA, too, and he’s just about the same height as the girls on Annabelle’s team.  We had fun running up and down the court for about 15 minutes until practice ended, then we shot around for a little while before heading to the truck.

Annabelle has never asked for advice or approval about how she plays.  She’s not wired that way.  The first words out of Isaac’s mouth:  “Isaac, good job!”  It wasn’t a question; he wasn’t asking how he played or if he was even helpful to the girls in practice.  It was a statement.  But somehow, I think he wanted me to recognize that he did well, that he wanted my approval.

I’m sure that we’ll have to address the ever-present male ego at some point, but tonight I ruffled his hair and softly punched him in the arm and said, “You betcha, buddy, good job, Isaac.”  A boy needs to hear that his dad thinks he’s good at stuff.  And then I told him that he stinks and needs a shower, which boys also need to hear.