Self-Titled

First, a squirrel is trying to move into our home via our window airconditioner. Fortunately, our siamese mix guards better than our terrier mix. But I can still hear the scritch-scritching in the wee hours.

Then:
Mia discusses the untenable assertion of adoptee "assimilation," in direct response to a problematic blog, one I won't address here. But the analogy, while a good one, is also a really provoking one. I had to ask: is my daughter really a squirrel?

I tried to follow the analogy. Then I tried to bend it. We're different kinds of dogs, she's a different kind of puppy. I'm a (mostly, the Gardeners) Labrador, my husband is a (mostly, the Blooms) Poodle, my son is a Labradoodle (though we tease him that he's a Poopador) and my daughter? Well, we're not quite sure but maybe a Basenji. Can a Labrador parent a Basenji?

But first my adaptation wasn't satisfying, and then it wasn't defensible. There are problems with pursuing the makeup of a transracial family through animal analogies. There's a history. There's the old (but not gone) failure to comprehend (or to recognize) the biological limits of race (someone from a different generation once told me that "cardinals don't raise bluejays," to explain why I oughtn't have black dolls). Baggage with the notion of breeding.

I'll stick with what I never realized before was an analogy: that a new flower blooms.

To be continued . . .