Took R to his first basketball practice last night. Young people--even at his advanced age--are so painfully cute sometimes. Watching them stumble over each other, miss baskets, lope down the court only to get to the end and look around with a lost, "what now?" expression...it dazzled me. There were a couple kids there who knew how to play, and a couple kids with energy, and one boy who just fit inside his body really well so that every move was graceful, but the majority of them were adorably bad.
I talked with a mom, randomly, she was simply the one who had thought to bring a book and I commented on it, and she was a foster mom for a while. Her son (the graceful one) is adopted. I've thought about becoming a foster parent for such a long time, but it scares me. The coincidence, though, made me wonder whether I should view it as a message from the universe, answering my question of yesterday.
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