The first time he held Brenda, he stared at her tiny face for about ten seconds.
Daniel and I were overwhelmed.
That first week, every appointment seemed to introduce a new question, and I barely knew which one to ask first.
Ben wasn’t.
The first time he held Brenda, he stared at her tiny face for about ten seconds.
He picked her clothes. He sang badly whenever she cried.
Then he looked at me.
“She’s perfect.”
After that, Brenda became “his baby.”
He picked her clothes. He sang badly whenever she cried. He showed her picture to cashiers, teachers, neighbors, and one confused delivery driver.
I found him under Brenda’s crib one morning with his pillow, blanket, and stuffed dinosaur.
At night, he would stand beside the bassinet and whisper goodnight as if Brenda could already understand every word perfectly.
For the first two weeks after we brought her home, I thought Ben was handling the transition better than any seven-year-old possibly could.
