It's been a long time since I've written. I guess time got away from me.
We're going to London in August for a wedding. So, being the prepared little Girl Scout that I am, I began the process of getting passports for the girls a few weeks ago. Good thing I did.
First, I needed passport photos. I took the girls to a photo shop where a nice lady had them smile brilliantly and then snapped the shots. The pictures were adorable and I was thinking of submitting them to the "Cutest Children in the World" contest I heard about on the internet. But her boss took one look at the photos and said "That will never do" with a hint of disgust to his voice. He then proceeded to stand Priya in front of the white backdrop very carefully and tell her not to move.
"No, move your head this way. THIS way. Now look right at me. No, HERE at ME. Put your arm down. DOWN. Don't smile. Now keep very still. STILL!"
What part of "This kid is three years old" did he not understand? It was even better when he got Anjali to stand very still and not smile. I think he scared her into submission. He ended up with shots of two very somber looking children. They look scared to death. He then whipped out his ruler and measured their heads in the pictures and declared "barely satisfactory." Oh, Thank Goodness.
I then looked up all the criteria for obtaining a passport for a minor. Ends up you have to have the child's official birth certificate (with a raised seal). We had never requested Anjali's birth certificate so we had to do that and wait a few weeks for it to come in. I've felt it many times just to make sure the seal is raised. Is it raised ENOUGH? Will they accept it?
I went back to the government website and read that both parents must be present at the government agency (post office) in order to submit the application. The application could only be submitted at CERTAIN post offices too. So we arranged our schedules so that we could both submit the application with the photos and the birth certificates at the RIGHT post office during WORKING HOURS.
That magical day was two days ago on a Saturday morning (squeezed between breakfast and Priya's first swimming lesson). We get into the post office and the unfriendly postal worker tells us passports are accpeted by APPOINTMENT ONLY on Saturdays. No exceptions. Two people are in line behind us. No exceptions. So I ask if there are any apppointments that we can make.
"No. None here and none (across town.)"
"Well, can we make an appointment in three weeks (which was the only time we could all get together again)?"
"No, we don't make appointments that far in advance."
I was getting exasperated, so I said "I wish this had been on the website."
"Oh, it's ON the website. Everyone says that, but we looked yesterday and it's THERE." She looked quite smug when she said it and in that instant I wanted to reach across the desk and choke the very oxygen out of her lungs.
But instead I turned four shades of red, my face pinched into a very tight glare and I stormed out of the office without a backwards glance. A nice elderly asked my "Are your daughter's twins?" as I was leaving and I just barked "No!" and kept going.
That showed HER. See if she ever mistreats ME in the post office again.
We are going tomorrow to try again. At a different post office. On a Tuesday. Cross your fingers. . .
