Birth Certificate

I'm keeping a list of places to avoid at all cost, such as the Office of Motor Vehicles, the Post Office, Consulate Generals of all countries, yes, even the poor ones... and now, the Office of Vital Records. This is where you and I went today, to get your Birth Certificate. I'm pretty sure this list is not unique to me. In fact, in spite of all the ethnic, religious, and racial differences, and all the wars, vendettas, and jokes they inspire, one thing that unites us all, worldwide, is the fear of the above places. Mention that you've been to one, and you'll trigger empathy and understanding that you had a shitty day.

Here is a re-cap of our day: We drove East, as the number of fast-food restaurants and run-down ethnic eateries increased, separated by used auto-part shops. We kept driving until we reached the middle of nowhere. I knew how to get there because I already got lost looking for the same location last week. The building looked like it was brought in and put there as one unit. We entered a room covered with people wall-to-wall. No air conditioning or a fan. Mind you it was 104F outside. The main language was Spanish. How come there are barely any white people in these places? Don't white people need to show proof of birth?

You were quite the entertainer. You started your usual crying fit, so I took you out of your car seat and bounced you in my arms. The black couple further down the line kept turning back and looking at you with affection. I heard the man say "I miss having them that small." The woman behind me started playing with your hands, and told her partner that she wanted one too. You are so cute and love-inspiring.

Finally it was our turn. I nervously waited for the clerk to tell me that a document was missing. I pictured us driving home, accomplished nothing, coming back next day, carrying the same load- car seat, the diaper bag, you- crying, me- sweating, waiting forever... But we had everything. The clerk asked me if I wanted the big certificate or the small one. I looked around the walls for samples, to minimize verbal exchange. There weren't any. They were the same price so I asked for the bigger one. I figured it wouldn't be inconveniently big. She handed me your birth certificate after having charged $23. I used Discover Card for the 1% cash-back advantage. I brought it home to show your Dad. It has the names of all three of us on it.