Tag: Grace Page 17 of 20

Hodi!

This morning, I went out to open the gate for someone, and when I got back to the house, the door was locked. Grace was inside.

We have two front doors–a regular, wooden one, and an outer, iron one. It was the wooden one that was locked. We keep the key in that door, on the inside, because it tends to fly open on its own. So either Grace had fiddled with the key and locked it, or it had somehow locked when I closed it. Regardless, I was on the outside and Grace was on the inside.

Now, for those of you from FCC who read the story about Hannah in Japan, this won’t seem nearly as entertaining. But it still was an adventure.

Every window of our house is covered with iron bars. Great security (and necessary), but makes it impossible to break in. Going through a window was out of the question.

Now, I had my keys with me, because I had unlocked the gate, and I had the key to that door. But since there was another key in the lock on the other side, I was unable to put my key in. So my first strategy was to try to get Grace to take the key out on her side. Didn’t work.

Next I told her to drag her chair over and try again. She obeyed. I could hear her trying. Still didn’t work. Next I told her to drag over one of the kitchen chairs–which by the way, are made of a very hard and heavy wood. She succeeded in dragging it over, and I told her to stand on it (normally a no-no), and try again. She still couldn’t do it.

My next strategy was to tell her to find Mommy’s phone, which was in our bedroom next to my bed. After two tries, she succeeded. I cut a hole in the screen and had her pass it to me. I called Gil. He told me to “kick it like they do in the movies”–karate chop kick it right at the lock. I did this about 25 times. Did not succeed.

Gil was in the middle of teaching a class so he came when he could. He kicked it like they do in the movies and succeeded! What a guy. My hero. Without even too much damage to the door.

Grace was locked inside for almost 2 hours. She was perfectly fine; didn’t get upset, and obeyed my instructions. Even though I kept telling her, “If you take out the key, Mommy will give you candy. If you take out the key, Mommy will give you a present. Try again!” Poor thing. She did try. She got candy anyway.

Grace kept saying to me “Hodi! Hodi!” which is what you say in Swahili when you want someone to let you in. It was great.

Daddy Needed Some More Practice With His Lighting Equipment…

“Praying”

After he got the lighting perfect, he then proceeded to take individual yearbook shots of every kid at HOPAC!

Two!


Last Saturday we finally had a free weekend to celebrate Grace’s birthday (which was on January 1st). Grace loved it, since being in the center of attention is her favorite place to be.


When you ask her how old she is, she yells, “Two!” and holds up her thumb and index finger.


Dorothy (or “Dorfy” according to Grace)


We celebrated with some teacher friends and the girls who baby-sit Grace.


Grace was in heaven–six baby-sitters giving her a bath at once!

My Favorite Part is Her Feet

The Homestudy

I’ve been jumping through hoops, going through the process for our second adoption. Today the social worker came to our house for a homestudy. I’d be interested in hearing from those of you who have had homestudies in the States. Because from what I know of those, they are a wee bit different than what we experienced today….

Our district social worker, Mama Mbaruku (“Mama” is used much like “Mrs.” here) had told me a couple days ago that she thought today would be a good day for the homestudy. So I called her up this morning and she said I should come get her about 3:30. Yes, come get her. Even the district social worker doesn’t have a car. So Grace and I drove the 45 minutes to go get her. Then we waited for an hour (which is interesting in small office with a toddler). When we got to our car, she said, “Oh, Grace can sit with me!” I politely told her that we had a special car seat for Grace to sit in. Then we drove back in traffic so it took over an hour to get home.

After all that, she stayed at our house for about 15 minutes. I’m not exactly sure what she was writing down, but I showed her every room in the house. Her biggest concern was that Grace was sleeping in her own bed in her own room. “She’s only two years old! She needs to be sleeping with you in your bed.” I told her that it was our American custom to have babies sleep in their own beds. “From what age?” she asked. “Usually, from birth!” I told her. I assured her that Grace was perfectly fine, and showed her how the baby monitor worked, but I’m not sure she was convinced.

And that was it.

As strange as this description might sound to those of you who have had American homestudies, it actually went really well. The last time we had a homestudy (in between Grace’s foster care and adoption), when I showed up at the appointed time to pick up a (different) social worker, she told me she was tired and didn’t want to come. In contrast, I’ve been more than impressed with Mama Mbaruku’s professionalism and earnest desire to help us–and I thank God for her! Our paperwork should get done much faster this time because of her. We just have to take into account the totally different worldview.

Page 17 of 20

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