In anticipation of being left to our own devices for a one July week, my son suggested an agenda packed with his favorite things: swimming, eating french fries, playing at the park and going to a movie. “With popcorn!” he demanded, and I didn’t say no.

Let’s do something even bigger, I suggested. His mind could conceive of nothing grander than forbidden food and having Mommy’s complete attention. I consulted the ‘net and with the help of  a friend cobbled together a road trip whose attractions included a big-city zoo and a botanical garden currently hosting an exhibit of the boy’s favorite creatures.

“We’re going to see real dinosaurs?” His eyes took up half his face.

They’re just pretend, I assured him. I’m not sure he was convinced. He’s brought it up at least seventy-four-ninety-six-hundred-forty-nine-twenty-seven-thousand (his concept of “the biggest number ever”) since then, including at our latest visit with his birthmother N.

“Take me with you,” she asked.

“Can N. really go with us?” the boy immediately asked, his face all aglow, an in an instant the character of our little get-away changed.

Once I picked my wits up off the ground I laid out some ground rules. You’ll have to pay your own way, I told her, and made my best guess as to what that would entail. And no staying up ’til 3 in the morning. I’ll be in bed by midnight and you’ll have to be too.

She agreed without question, then regaled her son with a rapturous account of the marvels our destination held. “Do you love dinosaurs too?” he asked. She allowed that dinosaurs were, in fact, the bomb, and yet another connection was built.

Oh what have I done? I thought on the way home from the visit. Is this really a good idea? Am I capable of supervising an energetic little boy and his mother all at once? Dear Christ no one mentioned anything like this in any pre-adoption class. Why didn’t I say no?

I fretted all the way home. I fretted through the unloading of the minivan, through the foraging for snacks, through the sending kids off to play. I was still fretting as I settled down to work, a fretting which only stopped when I went to upload pictures of our visit onto Facebook and found a message from N. posted just minutes after our departure. “Thank you for letting me go on the trip,” she wrote. “This means more to me than you know. I’ll have memories of this forever. I could not have picked a better mother for my babies.”

I guess I’m glad I didn’t say no.