I don't know why we put it off for so long. I think we may even have forgotten about it for a while......but then we remembered.
Luckily I knew exactly where the birth certificate and social security number papers were, due to the move. I carefully loaded those and all other "important" papers into the glove box of the car. Once there, I promptly forgot about them, and there they stayed until discovered by my Oldest Baby when he was going through car insurance papers.
We would also need a piece of mail with Youngest Baby's name on it. I took a college propaganda pamphlet that we have been receiving multitudes of lately and felt prepared. We had a little hiccup when it was discovered that Youngest Baby did not have his glasses with him at this time. He barely passed an eye exam and did not even offer that his glasses had been lost in the move. Either that, or they are still at my Fourth Son's house where we certainly hope, but do not know, for sure, they were left by accident on their last trip to visit.
Still he passed, as I knew he would. So on we go to the Department of Revenue office (don't you love that they finally got honest with that title? It's no longer the Department of Motor Vehicles--just call a spade a spade and get real, people. We are all about the Revenue, we even have a sign that proves it. ;)) and I offer the college propaganda pamphlet, clearly addressed in my Youngest Baby's name.
It is unacceptable. They need a utility bill in his name, which, naturally, being 17 years old and junior in high school, he does not have. But wait! The registration for the car would work, as long as I am willing to sign a paper giving him "permission" to use my address. As if my address is not also his home. I sign the paper and he goes out to look through the glove box for the registration.
I am not worried because I just had to renew the tags on my car, for which I had this registration just a few weeks ago. He comes back with 8 years of proof of insurance, the title for the car, and the Rock Star's birth certificate. But no registration.
At which point the lady says that I can just run to the bank, get a copy of my last statement, which does not have my Youngest Baby's name on it (but that doesn't matter since I signed the paper), but will show my new address. Now, what kind of sense this makes escapes me, and I assume could only possibly make sense to government employees, but aside from that, it would only take a few minutes to run to the bank and get said statement. So we did that, discussing crazy govt. rules most of the way.
On our way back to the refreshingly honest Department of Revenue, it hit me. This was my last time doing this. I remembered the first time. It was kind of sad. The second time was bittersweet but I was resigned to it. The third time, kind of a pain because I was tired and there were 2 of them..........but this was my last time. I wasn't even nervous this time, I was that sure he would pass. And now it was almost over. I began humming You Can't Go Home Again by Wynona Judd but had to stop to concentrate on not actively crying. Something about sons and how oblivious they are to such moments being a blessing floated through my head and then we were there. We had the (impossible to explain, but hey, whatEVer) required documentation and the cash. We were ready.
The rest went pretty smoothly, including the part where they offered to go ahead and register him to vote despite the fact that he is not 18 years old. Have you noticed that? It's not so new but I have noticed the strangest people, at the strangest times, trying to register me and/or my children to vote in the past few years. You may have noticed it too. Interesting, to say the least. He declined the kind offer with a straight face. I was so proud, I really was. His face was so straight that I was unsure if he even noticed that this was strange. How would he know the difference? How would any kid who just got his license? I'm sure it's just a public service. Right? Anyway, you might just be aware and see if you don't notice that, because I find it a cloying overstep that should not be dismissed, let alone indulged.
The rest of the trip went smoothly and we decided to stop at The Heart and Home for lunch. I announced that I was sad, that My Youngest Baby was happy, and that I might cry before we even got in the door. That Linda, being the angel that she is, arranged a brownie hot fudge sundae in honor of both of our moods, and we still got him to school in time to attend his afternoon classes.
|Mom, it's no big deal. Please don't cry, Mom.|
On the way to school I told him it was a new era in his life, and mine. I must say I do relish the fact that I don't have to drive anymore unless I just want to. I told him to shoot my Fourth Son a text and let him know that we must know, and get, those glasses back if at all possible. I told him he would never remember the score of this particular test in 20 years. He said he bet he would. We will have to wait and see, it will take 20 years to find out who's right. But it will probably be me. heh heh