When I was a kid, my cousin Mark and I were playing in my grandparents’ yard. While we crashed our bikes into trees or played Land of the Lost, a woman walked onto the front porch and knocked on the door. She spoke to my gram for a little bit, then left.
So we both ran into the house.
“Who was that lady?” we asked, breathlessly.
“It was the woman from the adoption agency,” my mother replied, matter-of-factly. (Though I am sure she will deny this, it is true, trust me.)
“What’d she want?” we asked, a bit scared now.
“Well, if you two don’t behave, she’s coming back to pick you up.”