I swear, this passport debacle is turning into an episode of I Love Lucy, or something.
Joe was quite insistent that there were PLENTY of places right around the passport office where we could get Canadian-Taken passport photos done on Sunday afternoon. "Oh yes, they're open on Sundays. They do a brisk tourist business" OK, I'll believe him on this one.
So after church and a lovely lunch out, mom and dad drove us by the passport office (so I'd know where to park), and then slowly cruised up the "passport portrait strip", so we could get Skip's pictures taken today.
All of those portrait studios was closed.
Every. Last. One.
But all is not lost. Mom and dad had had great luck getting their portraits taken at Walmart, and it was on the way home. So off we went to Wal-Fart.
I explained to the girl with the camera that we'd already had TWO sets of passport photos rejected because of all manner of oddness, so she was adamant that she was going to take the Best Passport Pictures EVER. She sat Skip down. She adjusted his hair. She fiddled with the collar of his orange fleece sweater. She had him fold down the collar Just So.
And then she told us to come back in 10 minutes to pick up the masterpieces.
Ten minutes later, when we came back to her kiosk, she said "I rejected that set of portraits."
Ack! More rejection! But this one didn't cost us anything.
And what was the rejection this time?
"If you look, it seems like your son's ears are glowing. I've heard off them rejecting passport pictures because of glowing ears..."
And you know what? I totally believed her. If they're going to reject a picture because a kid looks too pleasant, or because he's got a zit that's reflecting the camera's flash, I have no doubt in my mind that glowing ears would also get the big red boot.
She continued, " So here's the solution.... ELECTRICIAN'S TAPE!"
Yup. You heard that right. Electrician's tape. Which she then proceeded to pull off the roll and stick to the backs of Skip's ears.
Live long and prosper, dude, you look like Mr. Spock.
So now it's night.
We will be getting up at oh-dark-thirty in order to be in line outside the passport office at 6:30am.
And Skip just called to me from the bathroom, using his "I'm young and confused and I don't know what to do" voice.
I peeked out in the hallway, to see him standing at the door to the main bathroom of the house, with towels in his hand, dropping them down onto the bathroom tile, where it meets the hall carpeting.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, with mere hours before my inlaws leave for France, and mere+6 hours before Skip and I lock up their house for a month before heading back to California, we managed to overflow the upstairs toilet.
Thank-yew, thank-yew. We'll be here until Tuesday.