Badness goes postal...

Hubs and I realized the other day that we'd been a bit lax, and hadn't set up an RESP for Bad yet. ANd then we realized that we couldn't, because we hadn't applied for his SIN. So today I dropped the Princess off at school, rooted around in our files for Bad's passport and headed down to our friendly government offices.

"Hi, I just need to apply for a SIN for my son."

"Was he born in Canada?"

"Yes."

"Do you have his birth certificate?"

"No...I brought his passport."

"I'm sorry, we need his birth certificate."

"But...do you know how much I had to pay for his passport? How much trouble I went through to procure it? This is the HOLY GRAIL of personal identification!!! It's much better than a birth certificate....I'm an artist, and trust me - I could forge a Canadian birth certificate with one hand tied behind my back....but I couldn't forge this! Couldn't you make an exception?"

"I'm sorry, but if he was born in Canada we need his birth certificate. That's the primary documentation."

"I'M sorry...did you say IF HE WAS BORN IN CANADA? Do you mean that if he was born somewhere else you'd accept a passport as ID?

"Well....yes."

(insert outraged speechless sputtering here)

I heard the friendly government employee apologizing feebly for their asinine policy as I turned around and stomped out, unable to trust myself to speak. Luckily I live halfway between two government 'Community Service Centres' (their name, NOT mine) and so tomorrow, to save myself the agony of facing the same government employee twice, I will be off to the second one, proper primary documentation in hand. Gah.

Who's afraid of a crocodile?

I took the kids and one of their friends to Reptilia today. I am NOT a reptile person, but I forced myself to suck down my fear and go, because Bad and the Princess love it there. We were the only visitors this morning and one of the keepers came out and got a turtle, a python, and a lizard out of the cages for them to pet. (The Princess was a little bit disappointed, because she wanted to pet the huge Nile crocodile, she's obviously not a wussy like her mother.) He was fabulous (even a little dishy, if you like Australian accents and men in khaki - but it could be just me, I'm attracted to anyone who'll entertain my children so I don't have to!), answering all their questions, giving them all kinds of information, and lots of his time. It's a wee bit expensive, but today's visit was definitely worth it.





Entranced.





Learning about turtles.





They let this lizard LICK them. Time to wash your hands kids!!!

Fashionista

This post over at Jen on the Edge inspired me to post the latest dress-up antics of my babies. Only Bad can pull off dancing in a tiara and a tutu and still look like a bruiser. What are your children wearing today?

Why don't we have school nurses?

Dear idiots posing as teachers at my daughter's school,
Here's a hint: When a child falls and cuts her knee in the paved prison yard you have the audacity to call the kindergarten playground, WASH said knee before covering it up with bandages. Any wound requiring three bandages to cover it deserves a little bit of your attention. Just so you know, removing the pea-sized stone stuck in that wound after it has had several hours to scab over and fester is less fun for all concerned than it sounds. If washing a child's knee over-stretches your competence level, which it obviously does, just call me - 'kay?

You're lucky my husband is restraining me,
Badness Jones

edit - and to put my worries about my children into the proper perspective, please go read this post and take the time to sign the petition. Thanks.