If this is what it means to be a parent, I'm in

I have always been a big fan of wine, a wino if you will, or, as I like to put it, a lover of fine things even if by fine things I mean boxed wine too. Last night Bud and I went to a grill-out at one of his professor’s house’s where they’d set up an outdoor tiki bar. It was really cool and they were even rotating family and friends in to sit behind and do the bartending. The only problem with that, for me, is how quickly I become known by the bartender. By my second trip someone had told him my name so on the third I asked Bud to get a glass for me. Sure enough the “bartender” looked right over and said loudly, “is this for Hope?” and pointed at me. Later in the night an eleven year old girl skipped around the party grabbing people a beer. She reminded me of the dinner parties my parents had where I relished serving drinks and walking around with trays of appetizers, entirely aware that as long as the grownups enjoyed my help, I could sail straight past my bedtime. Plus I loved the attention and the coolness I felt in just holding alcoholic drinks back then. Not much has changed. She was so cute but I wasn’t even sure of her name nor did I feel quite right asking her to fetch me more wine so I quietly put my glass down. Not two minutes later she walked right up to me and chirped, “More wine, Miss Hope?” Now my question is, where do you go to adopt an older child?