kiwords

Today, as I'm sure it is marked on all your calendars, is A-Day. What? You DON'T have the day Clay adopted my boys, two years ago, marked on your calendar? Huh. And I thought I knew you so well.

Well, WE observed A-Day with fanfare and joy. Okay, what we actually did was skip church so we could drive through some nasty snow to take Sophia to the doctor's office. She's okay, but it's a testimony to how bad she looked that I wanted to take her in. Eleven years we've been with this pediatrician and until this week I didn't even know they HAD Sunday office hours. Bah. More about that tomorrow.

But today, despite its various complications, was A-Day. We had lunch at my parents' house (which was more of a Sunday event than an A-Day event, because we let them feed us Sunday dinner every week because we are givers), and to commemorate this day, we shared a blessing cup.

The blessing cup is a tradition from my childhood, and it's a good one. I hereby give you permission to steal it, because it's simply lovely. We usually do it on someone's birthday, and what you do is fill a pretty glass with something fancy everyone can drink (we usually go with sparkling cider, although I swear there was a Pepsi blessing cup once). Then you pass it around, and everyone says something to or about the honored person. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's touching. Kids generally grab the cup when it's their turn, look stricken, and choke out something like, "Happy Birthday - I'm glad you were born." Then *gulp* they take their sip, and pass it on.

When Mom poured the sparkling cider in the glass, Raphael was bouncing in his seat.

"ME FIRST! I want to GO FIRST!" He waved his hand and grinned. Hard to argue with that kind of passion, so Mom handed the glass to him. He took it, straightened in his chair, and looked right at Clay.

"Dad, I'm glad you adopted us," he said, "and I hope you don't leave like my other dad."

I think everyone around the table exhaled, like being kicked in the stomach. Later, Raphael told me he'd been planning what he'd say for the blessing cup for days.

And this is the best reason to do a blessing cup - because sometimes, when the question is too scary to ask, you can say it instead, and then, when it's your dad's turn, he can look right at you over the glass, lock eyes with you, and say, "Thank you for being my sons. I. Will. Not. Leave. You."

And on A-Day and every day, that's a good thing to hear.