Tonight I was reading to Christopher from one of my all-time favorite stories, The Velveteen Rabbit. Recently the subject of “real mother” has come up, as it almost inevitably does with adopted children. Something in one passage struck a chord, and comforted me. I hope it does the same for you. “What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they [he and the wise Skin Horse] were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin […]