I’m a mom of three children, all of whom were adopted at birth. My kids are black, and my husband and I are white. When we visit the park, eat at a restaurant, meander around the mall, or stand in a checkout line, we can reliably predict the questions and comments that will come our way.
We are a multi-racial adoptive family, and we realize that our uncommon path to parenthood evokes curiosity. However, there are days we can’t even buy toilet paper or order a sandwich without hearing, “Excuse me … ” followed by a request for personal information or an assumption about adoption or race. It gets tiresome to respond to the same questions and comments over and over, all while standing right beside my children who are listening and learning about the world.