MarshallAndFamily.com

…to not have a passport. Seriously. Have you read about the hoopla in the media about increased security requirements for entering the country? What it boils down to is that people can’t be bothered to get a passport. As far as I’m concerned one should always have a valid passport on hand – just in case. To make my point, look at this:

This is Marshall’s passport. I went through much effort in getting him this passport because it’s easier than carrying around his birth certificate when you are trying to re-enter the country. I do admit that it was difficult finding a photographer that is set up to take infant passport photos but I did. After I got the photos and filled out the application form, I had to bring him to the courthouse in his little bucket car seat and submit the documents in person. The courthouse staff asked to see him to verify his identity (lift said bucket car seat and point to baby) and after writing a check for the processing fee, it was done. If it can be done for a three month old, it is easily done for an adult.

 We had a busy morning last Saturday. First, we dropped Marc off at his Toastmaster’s meeting at 8:45 AM. We were scheduled to be at a playdate at 10:00 AM but it was all the way across town. I decided to stop at Greenlake playground on the way home to kill some time, figuring that crowds would be at a minimum at that time in the morning. WRONG-O! We were lucky to get a parking spot in the lot beside the recreation center. Normally (pre-child) I would avoid the “official” parking lots and park on the street but with my wrist in a splint and the high likelyhood of having to cart Marshall off the playground kicking and screaming, I wanted to be close to the car in case I had to leave quickly. So I did the rounds till a spot opened up. I let him loose amongst the playground equipment, dressed in his playdate finest – a cute sweater, matching pants, and his runners. I quickly discovered that the illusion of green grass was in reality wet mud. It was grass worn thin from the many hordes of children that have played there, running teams that cut across the playground, and endless people that used it as a shortcut to the public restrooms. And of course my delusion of him being cleanable slowly sunk in as Marshall became muddier and muddier with every fall and trip. He had a good time walking around exploring but it ended with me stripping his pants and shoes off before I would let him in the car (yes, I’m a dirt freak) and us heading home to get clean clothes. At Suzanne’s house he played very politely and ate infinite handfuls of Goldfish, signing, “more” and following that sign with, “please”!