This Sunday afternoon the three of us – T, Juan and I – will hop in the car and take a short 15-minute drive.  We’ll head north, turn westward and then exit south for a total of slightly over 5 miles before arriving at our destination.  After a short stay, we’ll exchange Well Wishes and Thank Yous with the residents and then we’ll get back in the car to head home.  T will chatter non-stop in the back.

Where we going? Music please! Where’s you iPod? Volkswagen! What’s that? Daddy! Papa! What are you doing? Music please!!

Lucas will be sitting quietly in his newly-installed car seat, taking in the sounds and blur of images.  We’ll arrive home to Mika, Milo and Rocky who will insist on sniffing everything and everyone.  And then our lives as dads to now two little boys will begin.

It’s hard to believe.  We have a baby?  No foster care?  No two-year wait?  No caseworkers coming by to ask annoying questions?   I am finally feeling a tinge of excitement today.  That is light years from where I was last week after the agency’s call.  And what a strange phone call it was.

There’s a baby.  He was born last week.  I don’t have much info for you.  Let me know what you guys want to do.  Gotta go.

The agency was woefully short on information.   The mother gave birth the previous week.  The baby boy was given a clean bill of health except for a minor eye infection.  A couple was taking care of him until a placement was found.  We had the opportunity to say yes to the placement.

That was it.  I think I was on the phone for maybe 5 minutes in total.

Later that night, we got D – the agency director – on speaker phone for more details about the situation.  What we learned was helpful and, to make a long story a bit shorter, we contacted D the next day and said that we’d do it.  We wanted to be this new baby boy’s dads.

Juan, T and I went to see him this past Sunday.  He’s cute in that newborn sort of way.  Slightly wrinkly and a bit puffy around the eyes, like he had been partying all night and getting in bar fights along the way. We playfully and lovingly nicknamed him Bar Fight Baby.  That name seemed to fit better than Lucas, one of the selected top-picks before we had a chance to see him.  Juan and I both agreed that day that he didn’t look  much like a Lucas.  He didn’t look much like anything (except Bar Fight Baby).  We have since come to the conclusion that he will likely grow into the name soon enough, so Lucas it is.

So, there you have it.  We have a baby.

Kind of.

The mother has until the first week of November to change her mind.  If she does, I hope that she takes her charge as his parent seriously and responsibly.  If not, we two dads would love to rise to the occasion.

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