Passports and Oranges

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We’ve been planning to get Robbie his passport for a few months, and today was passport day. I had everything together, and we got to the post office at 11:35, leaving us plenty of time to meet the noon cut-off. Until we walked through the door and saw a sign that read, “New Passport Hours. Saturday 9:00-11:00.” Great. Just great. Fortunately, I am not one to take no for an answer, especially when I haven’t even asked the question.

Justin, Robbie, and I patiently waited in line (I had a very belated baby gift to mail to my cousin). When we got to the front I asked Steve (my newest postal friend) if there was any way he could still accept a passport application, explaining how hard it is to get both parents together to apply for a child’s passport. Steve went to the back, found that they had not sealed up the passport applications at 11:00, and agreed to help us. Despite the line out the door of other postal customers and only one other person working the counter.

The whole process took about fifteen minutes, including the picture portion. When we went to the back to get Robbie’s picture taken, I expected to see irritated people. It appeared, however, that Robbie had made a few friends in line. There were actually a few people who clapped when Robbie got the picture taken successfully on the first try. Who knew?

Roberto’s day continued to get better when the mail came. There was a package from a friend who has recently moved from California to Georgia. Before leaving, she kindly packed a box of oranges from her back yard and mailed them to Robbie. He wasn’t too sure what to make of the package at first, but as soon as I got the tape cut for him, he was all about getting it open.

Robbie threw open the flaps of the box, grabbed the bag of oranges, and pulled it out with a brute strength I’ve never seen from him. He dragged the bag across the room and immediately set to opening it. He got frustrated when he realized the bag was knotted and brought it over to me to open.


I opened the bag and Robbie dove into the oranges. He pulled one out, sunk his teeth into it, and brought it to me to peel. Since I wasn’t moving fast enough, Robbie ran back to the bag of oranges, selected another one, bit it, and tried to start peeling it himself. He was not able to patiently wait for me to peel any of his oranges. He howled as I peeled one, waiting impatiently to sink his teeth into the fruit.

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