On Friday, we went to the home of some good friends, enjoyed some pizza and cookies, and watched the kids exchange gifts.  It was a night filled with laughter, and the sounds of children playing.  After much fun, we left at about 8:45, got the kids home, and tucked them into bed.

Insert sounds of the Hallelujah chorus here.

You see, whenever we take the whole family out, we usually have to leave no later than 7:30, because that’s the time that M and L begin to lose it.  And by “lose it”, I mean, they start crying, yelling, hitting, stealing, whatever.  Their normal bedtime is 7:00 (yes, I know that seems early, but there’s good reason for it, which I might cover in another post), and anytime after that, things get iffy.

The fact that they were able to stay up almost two hours past their bedtime, and have absolutely no signs of a meltdown, is just amazing to us.  J and I sat there after we got home, just overjoyed.

When dealing with older child adoption, especially fost-adopt, you’re trained to expect the worst.  And when that happens, your idea of “miracles” changes from feeding the 5,000 with 7 loaves of bread, to something more like enjoying an additional two hours at a friends home.  And each small miracle is just as meaningful and important as any large one!