A model, a citizen… a baby.

Five visits to photo shops, 6493542 attempted DIY shots, and one sore infant’s neck later – passport photos for the US, Australia and of course, Israel. Yep, our son will be a triple citizen by the time it’s all over. And not without his own brand of being sleepy and making us crazy, part II.

My baby wouldn’t make it very far if hired by Gerber, let’s put it that way. He’d rather sleep, kvetch, root, and flail than be still for a passport photo attempt. And, hell, why not? He’s a freakin baby. So when the US government wants a photo with eyes open, ears showing and a dead-center stare, well – how about you guys do it? 

So my baby is no model. But if all goes well, he’ll be a citizen of a second country after this Tuesday.

(Of course, for Australia, land of the free and easy-life, requests that you mail in your application and photos instead of making an appointment and waiting in a ridiculous long line at a consulate in East Jerusalem. Though when you arrive in Oz they are just a touch fanatical about your personal history with plants and dirt. But that’s for another time.)