Children of the heart

Here’s another in my mini-series of sweet stories from the depths of my in-tray:

A class of first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different hair colour than the other members. One of the students suggested that he was adopted.

A little girl said, ‘I know all about adoption, I was adopted.’

‘What does it mean to be adopted?’ asked another child.

‘It means’, said the girl, ‘that you grew in your mummy’s heart instead of her tummy.’