Tuesday, July 27, 2010

ID on a broken bike

February 18th, 2010. What a day this turned out to be!

Any thoughts of going to work dissolved into thin air when I felt the cold on my skin this morning. Vman left early and I turned around, searching for his warm spot in bed. Nope, the uni would have to wait another day. Since nobody else is at our academy, I had already doubts if I would make it this week. Carnival in the south of the Netherlands.

Around noon I asked my eldest son to function as wake-up call for youngest one. Of course he obliged happily. Nothing more fun than teasing a younger brother. Whacking poor sleeping Sean over the head, he stamped upwards to the attic, leaving a slightly rumpled young man who was trying to open his eyes. A shower helped.

After his breakfast and my lunch we set out to first take Sean's bike for repairs to the bicycle shop. It was better to say what still worked than what did not. Then we would order a new passport plus ID, after which Sean was due at the hairdresser's. His wild manes reached halfway his nose. Plus I had fullfilled my earlier threat of making him a pony tail. Then he suddenly agreed to the hair cutting operation.

We were nearing the shop, when suddenly I thought of the paperwork needed for the new identification documents. We had taken the necessary snapshots, but totally forgot to take the papers and his old ID. Setback number one. Marching on we came upon a closed door: lunch break. Sean and me stared at each other and I let out a scream which made him chuckle. There we were with the non-working bike.

Alright, nothing is unsolvable. Just a quick stop at the postoffice to get money. Bzzz bzzz did the machine, but all seemed to be functioning normal. It seemed. The damn thing ate my card! I could see the edge and tried to pry it out but to no avail. Scream number two started to rise. Then the postoffice manager came out to see what the ruckus was about. With the words "Whatever you do, stay calm," he disappeared back in. A small crowd was forming behind my back. After 5 minutes he came out with my card, hurrah. 

From that point on things went smoother. We did some grocery shopping and decided on pizza. Plus cookies. Half an hour early we reached the hairdresser. And guess what, Sean could sit down immediately. I got some tea and read a magazine. It's so nice hearing his 15-year old voice go down all the time, turning into a man's voice. I kept far from the cutting business. He's old enough to tell DaniĆ«lle what he wants. Result: slightly shorter hair with wax, but still it was messy enough for him to like it. 

On our way home we stopped at the bakery to buy bread and some rolls. Things went rather smoothly after all. Tomorrow morning it's back to passport business for Sean.

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