Small delay.

Well, here's our bi-weekly (semi-weekly? I can never remember which is correct) update.

We finally heard from the agency. Good news for adoptees, not great news for us: there were so many applicants, despite the current economy, that they had to split us up into two groups. Our application was apparently in the second half of that, so we won't get any further updates until May.

This is disappointing for us, but realistically we know we have plenty to do -- some updates and work around the house, some more paperwork, etc -- to fill that time, and it will be gone before we know it.

Plus, what a wonderful problem for the agency to have! That's even more kids who will end up with a good home. I can't be too upset about that.

I haven't let myself get overly emotional about any of this yet. It's too early in the process -- right now I need to focus on the details and all of that. But last night it hit me. Here's how it happened.

Over Christmas, Ann and I baby-sat our niece, Sweet Pea (not her real name). She was 21 months old at the time. Before she left, we took her out to the Man-Cave in the garage, where I keep my drum set and other things. I sat her on my knee and put drumsticks in her hand, and helped her play a little bit. For the next several weeks, she apparently kept talking about it to her parents. (Sweet Pea lives nearly twelve hours away from us, so we don't see her often. This was, in her short life, a Big Deal.) She told people I was coming to visit (I wasn't) and any time she called to talk to Aunt Ann, she talked about Uncle Dave and his drums.

Fast forward to the past few weeks. Our financial situation is fine, but it never hurts to find ways to make and save money. Not for the first time, I considered selling my drum set. I'm not part of a band, and I rarely have the opportunity to play, so my skills are rusty. It has sentimental value, but I keep telling myself I'm going to get a brand new, nicer set someday, so it would be okay to sell it.

I told Ann last night that I just can't bring myself to do it. I want to have the set available for the next time Sweet Pea comes down. I just can't see parting with the item that has helped me forge a connection with this beautiful little miracle of a girl.

Ann said I couldn't sell it because Sweet Pea needs someone to play drums with... and also because "someone's going to want to play drums with Daddy."

For the first time, I choked up.