A note from your sister . . .

Dear di di,

You are better than everyone expected! Joshua you are a gift to our lives. You have great laughter. You have great expressions. Today, you threw one of your stuffed animals at the restaurant and you got in trouble, but you had the cutest expression which made us laugh.

Joshua, you are so smart. You are catching on to signs so easily.

Joshua, I hope you like our house because right now you are used to elevators, swimming pools and all the other things in our hotel.

I hope you like our big plane ride, because on your first plane ride you had a few tears.

You're the best brother!

Love,

jie jie, Anna


Dear Joshua,

I still have volumes to write to you, and I will, but my letters may be shorter these next few days while we drink up as much China as we can before our flight home. As our departure date draws near, your daddy and siblings can't wait to be home. Home will feel good. I long to show you your room, your toys, our yard, the neighborhood pond and park and trails, our church, and so many people who have fallen in love with you even before meeting you – just as we did. But at the same time, the thought of leaving makes me feel all panicky inside. As always, a part of me wants to stay . . . just a little longer. To taste one more dumpling, to walk another new street, to meet another friend, to learn a new phrase. In some ways, I finally feel like I'm getting it. I know where to find water or bathrooms, I've mastered the squatty potty, I know which doors to push instead of pull, and I'm talking to more strangers. (I just love talking to strangers . . . but I usually don't eat their candy or climb into their cars. Usually.)

Andrew, Anna, Grandma and I ventured out yesterday morning for an adventure I promised to let Andrew write about.

We made it back well in time for lunch and to freshen up before our oath taking ceremony at the U.S. Consulate. It was another trip of hurry up and wait, and you were pretty squirmy, insisting on carrying Anna's Little House on the Prairie Book and fishing for our emergency fruit snacks stash. I watched a mother signing fluently to her 8 or 9 year old son, and I couldn't even get you to sit still long enough to sign a quick phrase. It all comes of being three years old, forced to sit and wait when you'd rather be playing. I would have rather been playing, too. Your Daddy came to the rescue and took you for a walk around the consulate. It was incredibly moving to see all the new families coming together, children from infancy on up to their early teens interacting with parents, grandparents, and siblings. Many parents were back for their second, third, and even fourth adoption trip. We will pick up your travel visa this evening around 5:00, and you will become an American citizen as soon as our plane touches down in Chicago. Since no cameras were allowed inside the consulate, Grandma says we'll have to take our photos at the landing. I make no promises. I have loftier goals, like not losing children!

I am praying for clearer eyes for the next few days, since I'm fighting an episode of episcleritis and kicking myself for not bringing along the steroid eye drops that would clear it up in no time. As I told your Grandma, now begins phase ugly of the trip. I've given up on fighting those humidity curls, we're running out of clean laundry, and my red eyes make me look like Frankenstein! Ibuprofen helps a bit with pain and inflammation, but the tears and light sensitivity make it difficult when I'm trying not to blink and miss a single thing.

A word about ice cream. You love it! I wish your grandpa were along to feed it to you. When it comes to ice cream, he would break every rule – the no cow's milk to babies rule, no chocolate before bed, no messes in the living room. He would break them all. We gave you your first taste on the river cruise two nights ago. After one swallow, your mouth stayed open with anticipation until the last drop had been licked clean. We had so much fun, we decided to do a repeat last night. A mango cone for Anna, chocolate for Jacob, vanilla for Andrew, and a cup of mango for you since you kept pointing to Anna's cone. With big smiles, we scooped up the first spoonful, but you threw a fit! You wanted cones like the big kids, and you were so mad that your ice cream was in a cup. It took you a few minutes to process your disappointment, and then you figured it out. Hmmm . . . I get what I get and I don't throw a fit, or I get nothing at all. We let you have the big boy privilege of spooning the ice cream yourself – and why not? You are amazing with a spoon . . . or chopsticks. Though chopsticks and ice cream would be a mistake, I think. Perhaps we'll try a cone this afternoon, at the zoo or the park.

For now, it's off to breakfast and then to our red couch pictures, where the kids will dress in traditional Chinese costumes and we'll take a few large group photos. Tonight we pack for Beijing, and tomorrow we leave for the airport at 5:45 am. Beijing, here we come!