I had been putting off the renewal of Raphaela's passport, because who wants to sit in a government office with an active little girl, when you can procrastinate; after all, we plan on traveling in July for my brother's wedding and that seems very far away.
Except that once April begins, the requests for passports will fly through the roof, and we would spend hours upon hours waiting our turn in line, and weeks upon weeks to receive the new documents. So this morning bright and early - actually not so bright, but rather in the cold pouring Jerusalem rain - Raphaela and I drove to the Ministry of the Interior. I brought along snacks and markers and coloring books and my iPad for entertainment, and prepared for the unpleasantness that is Israeli beaurocracy.
Except that as a Type A personality, we arrived so early that our number in line was "001," and we were in and out within fifteen minutes, with Raphaela arriving at Gan much earlier than I expected, hardly even late by any one's standards.
As we got into the car to go to Gan, Raphaela looked at me with a smile and said, "Now we can get on an airplane to the wedding, see my cousins, and I can wear make up!"
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