Emperor Rong Rong

When the orphanage workers first put Quinn in our arms yesterday, I was worried that he was so interested in everything around him except for us.

A few hours in, the reason became clear: The Little Emperor had simply traded one set of servants for another. This boy was clearly the pet of his nannies and exudes a brand of confidence so bold that it actually takes a while to notice it.

When the workers came out with the children yesterday, I was filling out some paperwork and looked up in the middle of the moment. The other two children were brought out first and I had the vague notion that I couldn't see Quinn. Looking at the pictures last night, I saw that he was surrounded by workers touching him, patting his back and checking us out, HARD.

An orphanage manager was on hand to answer questions after the "hand-off." She didn't seem to know the other kids as well, but she knew every last thing about our boy. She also spared no time communicating that pretty much everything I was doing was not good enough for The Little Emperor. She didn't like the way I was holding him. The way his sweater kept bunching up. And she scolded me severely for taking him outside into the 75-degree weather without his stocking cap, which she pulled onto his head with his full acceptance.

When it was time for us to go, I could tell she and another worker wanted to say goodbye, so I hung back. A male worker put his hand on Quinn's back. The female manager reached out for him, so I handed him right over. Quinn, of course, was fine with all scenarios.

On the bus later, Leah, one of our agency representatives, confided in us: "I think he is very spoiled. Boys are so rare here, and he is so cute." She said it confidentially, like it was a vaguely bad thing. But I couldn't have been more happy.