When the fostering agency called to schedule an appointment, I tried to keep my emotions in check. All the necessary paperwork had been filed and interviews finished. The only thing left was for custody to be granted. On paper, I was an ideal candidate. Working from home, I planned to home school the boys even though a school was within walking distance. A large, fenced in yard with a swing set and treehouse were built in the rear of the home. If I was a kid, I’d want to live here. I had been down this road once before, not long after my dog passed away. Reminders of him were scattered throughout the house. During an inspection of my home, when asked if I was ready to become a parent, I responded with the first thing that came to mind. “I know how to make a diaper out of a potty pad,” I replied, referring to the absorbent sheets used to train puppies. The fostering agent was neither impressed nor amused. My application was subsequently denied. This time around, to avoid such pitfalls, I applied for a six and seven year old. Neither wore diapers, as far as I knew. The week following the phone call, I learned that my application for adoption was approved, and met with the foster parents to take custody of the brothers. Manny, the younger of the two, approached without hesitation. He placed a stuffed teddy bear on my lap and sat beside me. “He carries that around with him everywhere,” advised his foster mother. “I used to have one just like it,” I replied. Steve, the seven year old, stood across the room and watched our interaction. He was a little more timid but approached after a few minutes. My first impression was that he didn’t look like a Steve. He looked like a potato but I knew better than to voice that observation. As we prepared to leave, I was asked what our plans were for the day. “Change his name to Spuds,” I blurted out, pointing to Steve. The room fell silent. Dumbfounded, the fostering agent glared as she processed my response. Before I said something that reversed the adoption, I leashed Manny and Spuds, led them to my truck, and drove my adopted dogs home.