how long...?

Questions from strangers are always interesting. Lately the same one has seemed to pop up with some regularity.

Stranger: "How old is he?"

Me: "16 months."

Stranger: "How long have you had him?"

I always answer with "since he was 2 days old."

 T is growing up. He's a toddler and at an age that many children from African countries find their forever families. When he was a newborn no one ever asked that question. People likely assumed that we had adopted him recently or maybe it was a domestic situation.

T's adoption is international, but he's American which hardly seems international to me. He's not from Ethiopia, Kenya, Ghana, or any other African country. I understand why the question is asked. He's black, I'm white and thanks to Angelina most people are more familiar with an overseas international adoption versus that of the USA.

But what the question does is bring to the forefront that T is adopted and that I am an adoptive mom. He's not just my son...but an adopted child. I'm not just a mom...but an adoptive mom. We're labeled. 

I'm never really sure where to go next in these conversations. I want to say...thanks for reminding me I'm an adoptive mom because I forgot...or...why does it matter to you...or...are you just trying to make conversation...or...why don't you talk to me like any other mom with a toddler? 

But I don't. I just answer the question and leave it at that. I'll wait to see how they respond, hope they drop the subject, and carry on with whatever we're doing. A few people have responded by commenting that we've had him for awhile. Not really sure what to say after that....um...good observation?! Does having him since birth give my adoptive mom status more validity? I'm just glad that so far no one has felt the need to continue their questioning and ask about his first mom or how it is that we got him at 2 days old.

I wonder how long people will ask me this question. Perhaps when T is old enough to understand it won't be as important for others to know exactly when we became a family. In the meantime, I'm beginning to anticipate the question. And I don't stew all day when it's asked. Questions are a part of being a transracial family. I just find the questions interesting and am sometimes surprised how they affect me and cause me to ponder my role and how comfortable I am in it.