A Family for Freddie

I remember the first time I saw Freddie. He was standing in his playpen at the adoption agency where I work. He gave me a toothy grin. What a beautiful baby, I thought.
His boarding mother gathered him into her arms. 'Will you be able to find a family for Freddie?'
Then I saw it. Freddie had been born without arms.
'He's so smart. He's only 10 months old, and already he walks and talks.' She kissed him. 'Say 'book' for Mrs. Blair.'
Freddie grinned at me and hid his head on his boarding mother's shoulder. 'Now, Freddie, don't act that way,' she said. 'He's really very friendly,' she added. 'Such a good, good boy.'
Freddie reminded me of my own son when he was that age, the same thick dark curls, the same brown eyes.
'You won't forget him, Mrs. Blair? You will try?'
'I won't forget.'
I went upstairs and got out my latest copy of the Hard-to-Place list.

Freddie is a 10-month-old white Protestant boy of English and French background. He has brown eyes, dark-brown hair and fair skin. Freddie was born without arms, but is otherwise in good health. His boarding mother feels he is of superior mentality, and he is already walking and saying a few words. Freddie is a warm, affectionate child who has been surrendered by his natural mother and is ready for adoption.

He's ready, I thought. But who is ready for him?
It was 10 o'clock on a lovely late-summer morning, and the agency was full of couples—couples having interviews, couples meeting babies, families being born. These couples nearly always have the same dream: They want a child as much like themselves as possible, as young as possible, and most important—a child with no p...