We are headed out of town in a few months, and had to get Pippi’s passport.
It ended up being quite the long afternoon with everything needed to obtain it, and Dash was a saint, and the Pips was tired — hence the blotchy face in her photo.
After five straight hours of nonstop (doctor, birth cert., passport photos, post office, etc.), I am not one to argue with my quiet kid, playing the blue IPad on the floor of the Passport office.
Because with a crying Pippi, we welcomed our happy two year old (who was letting Micah know that Pippi was crying) regardless of what was making him happy.
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