Changes

Tonight YoYo lost a word. He tried to describe the day’s rain and was at a loss for the Mandarin word, one he easily sang just a few weeks ago. His English, by contrast, is remarkable.

In the preadoption classes and reading, I learned that there comes a break for a child with his language and culture. I find myself mourning this loss for him, as I am sure he will when he is old enough to name it.

We have wooed this little prince. We tried, limited as we are, to speak Mandarin as much as possible in China. We made up little songs like, “Mama, Baba Ai YoYo,” (“Mama and Baba love YoYo”) to sing him to sleep. He responded more to our efforts than I expected, graciously laughing with us at ourselves when we gaffed, gently leading us on. We brought home so many pieces of his daily experience, and we kept as much as we could for his sake. The foster home played a certain CD every afternoon; the copy we were given immediately became THE CD for naptime and bedtime. His ayi gave us a Winnie the Pooh book, and we’ve read it at every bedtime since May 8, developing an elaborate ritual. We watch Teletubbies. We try to sing along with the Chinese language CD of children’s songs in the car, and we’re coming close to having “Xiao Bai Tu” (“Little White Rabbit,” a nursery rhyme) downpat.

The biggest key to this little boy’s heart has been food. I ventured to an international market and brought home frozen dumplings, bok choy, red bean buns, so many noodles, and the biggest container of soy sauce I’ve seen in my life. He danced with his arms in the air as I unloaded the bags, singing “Gyoza, Gyoza!” (“Dumpling, dumpling!). Now, at the end of every meal, he reaches for me and says, “Thank you for making YoYo’s food, Mama.” This morning, he held my face and said softly, “I love you Mama, you know that?”

When we read Pooh, now, it presents a dilemma. He’s clearly bored, yet he wants us to read it. I think he doesn’t feel like he can make the decision to let go of it on his own. He cries when he wakes up alone. The bedtime CD is not the soothing presence it once was. My Dad says (wisely, I might add), that YoYo is here now, not in China. I know it is time for change, but I feel it must come in little steps. I want to tell myself that I am valuing him and the life he came from, but I also know that I am at least in part trying to protect him. I need bigger hands.