Therese came up to me last night, her baby doll nestled in her arms, and said, "Look at my little adopted baby!"
"Oh, you adopted that baby, Honey?" I asked.
"Yes," Therese responded, "Her mother touched a dead mouse, so now the mother can't come near the baby. So I have to take care of her."
And then, the light bulb moment for yours truly: We recently had a dead mouse in the garage, and we told Therese not to touch it or she could get sick.
Without in any way making light of the important and selfless reasons that women choose to place their babies for adoption, Therese's simple interpretation made me smile.