David: The Mystery of the Missing Onion

Maybe we're turning a corner. The last couple of days have been pretty good. Much less crying and moping from Leah May, and many more smiles. She's not exactly enjoying her current life, and she acts thoroughly bored most of the time. But she's slowly adjusting to life in our household, or is at least resigned to being held captive here.

The biggest challenge we face right now is to find something -- anything -- that can hold Leah May's attention for more than a few minutes. We've tried games, books, coloring, toys, television, you name it. (As Kathy says, "What self-respecting kid doesn't like television?") She soon tires of all activities, and begins wandering through the house ... and going through everything. It's like having a giant 2-year-old in the house. Every single item on every surface finds its way into her hands; every item in every drawer is subject to being grabbed, including knives (held by the blade), medicines and scissors that have been used to cut everything from bills to one of Rene's favorite pictures. If she likes what she finds, it's liable to find its way into her backpack or purse. We can't turn our attention from her for a minute.

A prime example: the mystery of the onion. Yesterday I was in the basement continuing to deal with the cleanup of flood damage while poor Kathy was trying to make dinner with the "help" of our two children. At her desperate plea for assistance, I came upstairs. Each child was peeling an onion. In the time it took me to drink a glass of water and answer the call of nature, Leah May's onion disappeared. Kathy swears Leah May didn't leave the kitchen. Leah May looked at us blankly as we tried to ascertain what she did with it. Rene had no clue, either. We've checked every nook and cranny in this house, and the onion is nowhere to be found. We figure that sooner or later our noses will detect the rotting onion, but until then it's going to drive us crazy!


Another big challenge is teaching Leah May proper hygiene, American style. Those of you who know me realize that this is a major area of concern. I'm not as bad as Adrian Monk from the USA Network show, Monk, but the writers could have used me as a consultant. Getting her to wash hands after using the bathroom or before eating requires persistent reminders -- but that's the case with most children. The bigger problem is getting her to use toilet paper, a commodity not used in her orphanage. Kathy has tried teaching her to use it, but she apparently has no interest in following our wishes. Instead, she prefers to wash herself off in our bathtub ... and to leave the dirtied water in the tub for all of us to enjoy. I may install a padlock and chain on the shower in Kathy's and my bathroom.

On a positive note, I'm pleased to report that Leah May continues to warm up to me. Today I received many smiles, numerous "hello" greetings, a high-five (first time she's ever voluntarily touched me), and several calls for "Daddy" ("DAH-dee" in her heavy accent). She still prefers to be in Kathy's company -- poor Kathy isn't getting a minute of rest these days -- definitely doesn't like to be alone with me, and in general responds more readily to Kathy's requests than mine. But we're getting there. She and Rene are getting along pretty well, although she's increasingly guilty of impish behavior with him. Often I can't decide whether she's merely having fun with him, or if she's trying to pick a fight or take out her frustration with life on him.

I leave you with a picture of today's major family event: Dad and kids showing off their artistic talent with chalk on the driveway. Kathy and Rene think I should look into a new career as an artist, which sounds fine to me as long as they can learn to live without eating.