It Pays to be Patient ... I Think
“Mom! Isn’t it amazing that I invented a clock that runs on water, even though I didn’t know that someone else had already invented it? I’m just a genius!”
This inspiring breakfast self pep talk was already working wonders on distracting Puck from a large bowl of oatmeal with honey, and from getting into his school uniform for the day. But then again, even a fly would distract this kid from getting ready for school in the mornings, let alone his own genius.
At exactly nine o’clock, Yali and I took our place at the end of a long line waiting to enter the Social Security Administration Offices. I figured we were in for a long wait with about thirty senior citizens and a mom with red streaks in her hair. While we waited to sign in and have my book bag searched, Yali – temporarily calm and cheerful – balanced on my hip, I pondered the warning posted on the wall:
“It is against federal law to kill a federal employee.”
Considering that the most dangerous article I was carrying in my bag at the time was a small bottle of hand sanitizer, I figured they wouldn’t tag me as a suspicious character.
About 50 minutes after our arrival, and an ornery two year-old, they called us back to a desk to look over a thick folder of Yali’s paperwork. I figured there was a chance I was missing something, since I could never get through to them over the phone confirming my “bring this” list.
“We’re also going to need his Colombian passport,” the cheerful woman behind the desk told me.
Looks like we’ll be visiting Social Security again later this week.
Yali was a little hysterical this evening over something or other. I was in the kitchen working up some more bacon and eggs – sometimes we like breakfast for dinner – helping Puck memorize his 6 times tables. But with Yali’s dramatics escalating, Puck decided to pause from his studies and take matters into his own hands for me.
“Yali! Yali, Yali. Yali. Listen to me. Listen to me. I need you to be a man. I just need you to be a man. Can you do that? Okay.”
By this time, about four of six smoke detectors – with more threatening – were screaming around the house because they had all picked up the aroma of pig. Every. Dang. Time.