Monday, April 05, 2010

Easter Monday
After an agitated week of restless waiting, We get up at the crack of dawn and put on our best clothes. We wake T out of a deep, scholastic vacation type, sleep. K puts on every lick of jewelery she owns. We pace it out at the N/R subway station waiting for one of our several trains to arrive to take us to Park Avenue in Manhattan. We sweat through our good clothes on the walk from the station to the Italian Consulate. There is a handwritten note on the door.  What does that say? NO! No, no no! It can't be.

Well, how were we supposed to know that Easter Monday is a holiday in Italy? T looked at us in absolute horror. Okay kid, I said, guess what? While Daddy goes to work, you are going to get your ears pierced! T had been begging us for pierced ears for months, but F said she had to wait until she was 18. Then it was 16. But based on the fact that he has pierced ears himself, and sports a wedding earring I got him with the inscription "chosen" around the thick gold hoop, T was not convinced.

F decided to run to work with our whole giant binder the size of an Encyclopedia filled with every document on earth from FBI clearance, to passports, to Birth Certificates with an international Apostille on them and our marriage certificate, and our bank statements and our mothers' bank statements and our tax forms and a letter from our friend Piero saying how much money we spend on vacations and, well, you get the picture.  We instead went to the only semi reputable, semi clean, but very sterile, ear piercing establishment we could find; and for T, at least, the day was not a total loss.

No comments: