Twice in a Lifetime: David: A Good Couple of Days

Days-long cries of "Mom!" in stereo have worn Kathy to a frazzle, but Dad thinks things have been improving nicely over the last few days. My occasional trips into the office are probably helping my perspective.

Before detailing the last couple of days, though, I need to answer the question most often asked by family and friends: No, we never solved the mystery of the missing onion. Haven't seen it, haven't smelled it, haven't coerced any confessions from either one of our children. I'm beginning to think it may have slipped into the great Bermuda Triangle-like void which has also ensnared my sanity, youth and, from time to time, my dignity.

Anyway, Tuesday saw a happy reunion take place in our home. Leah May's best friend, Camille, came up from Tennessee along with her parents and brother to visit. Until Camille was adopted a year and a half ago, the girls had been inseparable since they were infants at their orphanage in Davao. They no longer speak the same language, but that didn't stop them from having a grand old time together. On a couple of occasions, Leah May happily announced in heavily accented English, "She is my sister!" That may not be a biological fact, but no two sisters could love each other more. Rene had fun with her brother, and Kathy and I very much enjoyed the company of her parents. It was a delightful day we hope to repeat in Tennessee perhaps sometime this fall.

In her most recent post, Kathy detailed how Rene finally reached his breaking point and was ready to ship his little sister back to the Philippines. That prompted me to schedule a father-and-son excursion to Garfield Park on Wednesday afternoon. While the girls went shopping and found ways to spend our hard-earned cash, Rene and I hunted for interesting bugs, romped around the playground and, in the park's lovely conservatory, fed the fish and saw some fascinating plants. At White Castle on the way home, where Dad temporarily lost his mind and let Rene drink a red cream soda (it had the same general effect as sugar water does on hummingbirds), I tried hard to reason with Rene about the need for patience with Leah May. I think it sunk in a little bit, but that's sort of like saying a gentle shower increases the depth of the Pacific Ocean. A day later, he doesn't seem any happier with his sister, but he does seem more assured that Mom and Dad love him as much as ever.

Our homecoming that afternoon was quite nice. Leah May was riding her bicycle -- sporting cool sunglasses and her brand-new helmet -- in the driveway. She greeted us with a huge smile, cries of "Dad!" and "Rene!" and nearly sprained my neck with a vigorous hug. I could get used to that kind of loving.

I end this post with the best news of all: Leah May has spent the last two nights sleeping in her own bedroom! Kathy continues to sit with her until she falls asleep, but after that we haven't heard a peep from her until sometime around dawn. The next step is to prevent Leah May from waking us up like some sort of Cebuano-speaking rooster every morning, but at least we have our bedroom all to ourselves again.