This morning I hopped on an early bus into London to take care of some passport paperwork for Sydney. Given that my days are often largely filled with the sounds and sights of Katherine and Nathaniel, I enjoyed the opportunity to do a bit of people-watching: the man who announced to the passport official that this was his last passport, since he was 88, and her assurances that, no, he may well have another one or two yet; the young guy sitting next to me on the bus home, who spent half the time using his iPad as a mirror to help him artfully muss his shaggy hair (it was amusing to be out-primped by a young boy); the security guys at the Canadian embassy who chuckled over Sydney’s old passport photo (in which he really does look like a terrorist), and over my satisfaction with the new one, in which he looks quite handsome, and who were floored when I said I had no electronic gadgets to surrender before entering; and the extreme vigilance of the security detail at the US Embassy, as they patrolled the perimeter with machine guns, just inside a tall iron fence, on the edge of a quiet green park in central London. And, of course, the children. I noticed the children in strollers as I walked, and smiled to hear them playing as I took a detour through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. Am I really going to be smitten with children wherever I go, now that I’m a parent?
Erin





Alan Schmierer