Comes Now, Petitioners

TO: THE HONORABLE, THE EIGHTH JUDICIAL DISTRICT COURT OF
THE STATE OF NEVADA, IN AND FOR THE COUNTY OF CLARK
COMES NOW, Petitioners, ADAM and RYAN REISMAN, both of
whom are adults, and respectfully represent to this Honorable Court
as follows:

The pages are signed, the ink is dry, the petition is filed, and good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, we're about to finalize our adoption in court.

It could be next Tuesday. It could be a week from now. It could be the first week of April.

But Hallelujah and please stand by, one of those dates, depending on whose in-box we fly in and out of fast enough, Pinocchio 1 and Pinocchio 2 will turn into real live dads, we'll be out of legal limbo and we'll become the bona fide parents of Justice and Justin.

I think the words "bona fide" are actually in the paperwork somewhere, which makes me giggle and think of George Clooney's ex-wife in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" -- "Vernon here's got a job. Vernon's got prospects. He's bona fide."

Anyway, that's the voice I hear in my mind when I read the document. Holly Hunter with a Southern Accent. Except for the first line, "Comes now, Petitioners, Adam and Ryan Reisman," which I hear in a boisterous, out-of-tune Klingon opera voice, like Worf on TNG and DS9. "Comes NOWWWW, Puh-TISH-uh-NURRRS!"

But as usual, I digress. When do I not digress? Oy.


"If the Court makes and enters its order that the minor children 
shall be adopted as herein prayed for, 
Petitioners will treat and regard these children as their own
lawful children and will provide these children the right of
support, protection and inheritance."

Inheritance? Whew, good luck with that one kids. Put it this way...you'll get a paid-off house to fight over and all my old Billy Joel CD's. Other than that, I suggest you start tucking aside a little out of each paycheck ASAP. 

But "support and protection," that part we're good for. Well, other than the reckless amounts of Krispy Kreme, Hot Cheetos and Hershey's with Almonds allowed in our house, that is. Let's not get too nitpicky, your honor.

Thank you to our marvelous friend and mind-bogglingly fast attorney, Fran Fine, Esquire, who set new land-speed records getting everything drawn up, filled out and filed at the courthouse the minute DFS gave her the go-ahead. For nine months our world felt like it was moving in a vat of molasses, then Fran stepped in, and suddenly we were in hyperspace.

I'd show everyone the petition we filed word-for-word, (because copy and paste is a marvelous invention), but I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon, and as Han Solo so wisely noted "traveling through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, boy. Without precise calculations, we could fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova, and that'd end our trip real quick, wouldn't it?

So rather than face the wrath of bad protocol, and DFS and/or Clark County Family Court rules which are mighty and all-powerful, a bit like James Franco in the new Oz movie, I'll just cull the fun parts and give you snippets. If you want to see the whole thing, you'll have to meet me in a dark alley at night, where I'll be the one in dark sunglasses and a yellow raincoat. "Psst. Hey buddy. Wanna see my petition?"

"Petitioners are financially able to and will provide

for the comfort and welfare of the minor children. Petitioners are

of good moral character and reputable standing."

Life, of course, goes on in unspectacular normality while we wait. "Comfort and welfare" today consisted of a basketball camp for Justin at his occupational therapist, where he says he made ten baskets. (Justin can round up from 3 to 10 like nobody's business). And for Justice, "comfort" meant a trip with other-dad to her namesake store (very cool to have a daughter named Justice and a store named Justice in the same town, although I have a sneaking suspicion it's going to cost me plenty), for nail polish, a new fuzzy diary and a shirt with her name on it. 

The other part up there, "Petitioners are of good moral character and reputable standing," goes without saying, unless you count the time I was 19 and got drunk at Cindy Parker's house and started passing out chicken salad sandwiches under her dining room table. Suffice it to say, I was quite a hit.

Anyhoo....


"WHEREFORE, Petitioners pray for an order of the Court
that the minor children be adopted by the Petitioners; that
henceforth the minor children be regarded and treated in all
respects as the children of the Petitioners, 
ADAM and RYAN REISMAN."

Set your countdown clocks and standby champagne thrusters. Here comes reality, Pinocchio.

We are finally, blessedly, almost there.