So, yesterday I had one of those island days in the not-at-all-relaxing-on-a-beach-sort-of-day way. I've already kvetched on about the silliness of Customs Officials, but the real trauma of my yesterday ran deeper than just dealing with rules and regs and officious people in uniforms.

This weekend is T's birthday. Those who follow my bleatings here and on the Older Parent blog will know a bit about T. He was our foster son for a while a while back and we still have a great big hole in our hearts where he used to live. He was out of the country for time, but is now living here again with his mother.

With his birthday coming up, I wanted to get him a gift and a card, and the best way to get these into his hands is to drop by the school. On this, my timing was perfect, as his recess and my arrival coincided. T has very limited vision, so there's never any chance that he'll spot someone across a crowded playground. He really has to hear a voice before he totally connects with the blurry form approaching, but his reaction to mine was, as always, pretty wonderful. We had a little chat, then he showed off for me for a while with his buddies, and even let me plop kisses around on his darling face without putting up a fuss.

(Lest anyone think this contact seems a bit iffy, understand that this is a really small country and everyone knows everyone. Many of the teachers at the school are friends of mine, and all understand the relationship between T, myself, his mother, etc.. His mom, by the way, has no objections to me seeing him this way.)

As well as the emotion attached to this brief reconnection with T, today was also Sam's first look at this school ... the school where he'll be starting in what is called "Reception One" in September.

Can I just say he was impressed?

Now, I'm not all that hot on the idea of Sam starting school. After all, he'll not even be four by then (not until November), and that just seems so young to me. Plus, I love having him at home. He'll have so many years of 'stand here / line up there / sit / stay blah, blah', that I'd like to put off the start of all the regimental rigamarole as long as possible.

Sam has a different take on the idea, though. And even more so now that he realizes it's T's school, too.

You know what? It's been a tough day, and this is running longer than I thought, so I'm going to finish it tomorrow. Wa ou taler. (That's Creole for: Later!)

Questions? Comments? Shy? E-mail me ... intladoptionblog@adoptionmail.com