I sat under the shady tree in the playground at camp. Partly involved in the book I was reading on my Kindle and partly watching the boys run around the big square with their friends from behind my sunglasses, I was simply enjoying my afternoon. I sank into the rare beauty of relaxation, breathing easy on a lazy summer day.
BigBrother was climbing on a toy talking to one of his girl friends. She adored him and had been adoring him all week. Oblivious to her batting eyelashes and general admiration, he treated her like he treats all of his friends: with incessant chatter. She mentioned something about her brother and something about LittleBrother.
There was an audible pause. I looked up from my reader, my eyes hidden behind my reflective glasses. I saw him; he was searching her face, trying to see if she was open to what he had to say. I heard his intake of breath.
I braced myself against the tree.
“I have a sister too.”
Another pause.
“She lives far away though. She’s older than me.”
My heart simultaneously swelled with both pride and anxiety. Look at him! Listen to him! But… but. What would this nearly five-year-old girl say in response to that? In their years of knowing one another, she had never seen nor met nor heard of this alleged sister. I started running through the list of questions she might ask: Well, why isn’t she here? Why does she live far away? Does that mean you don’t love her? I thought of pointed things she might say: No you don’t. She’s not real. Quit making up stories.
Instead, this little girl looked at my son and said, “That’s cool.” And then launched into a lengthy discussion about climbing trees.
I exhaled, loudly. I wasn’t even aware that I had been holding my breath.
His very first experience putting himself on the line about his sister went well. It went better than well. His words were accepted at face value. They were not questioned. They were not dismissed. He has a sister. She lives somewhere else. And that’s okay.
(Though it made me question why adults can’t be as accepting as children.)
I was so happy for him. It could have gone differently. It could have gone poorly. But instead, he now has the belief that people will accept his family for what it is… which won’t always be the truth, but it’s better to start out the game thinking the best of things than the worst of things. He doesn’t have reason to doubt himself, his sister or me. Yet. That will come. In time.
Before I went back to reading, I smiled at that beautiful little girl. She will forever stick out in my mind as the first child BigBrother told about his sister. She will forever stick out in my mind as the shining example of how we should react when we’re told about adoption or other non-traditional family situations. I then shot my son the sign language for “I love you,” which he returned before he tried to tell the little girl that she should be careful climbing the tree because she could break her leg and she’d have to go in an ambulance and did she know that his daddy works in an ambulance and a fire truck and on and on and on as he chattered her precious little ear off… sharing his life without fear.
My name is Jenna. I blog here, 
