It's not often that one cheers for bureaucratic mistake-making, but today, I did so. Aloud. So loud, I may have scared the baby. My dad and his wife are set to land in London next week, the plan being to hang out here a few days, have some romantical time in Barcelona, then meet up with us in sunny Malaga. One slight hitch, the trip was booked before the kid was hatched... and up until the blessed doorbell rang this morning, I was under the impression that his wee passport might not arrive in time. Because basically, over the course of a painfully lengthy chain of conversations with the passport people, they told me it might not. Well, long (and not so eloquent) story short: It did. His ridiculous, could-be-any-baby passport photo is all officially in a UK passport. My tiny man of international mystery is all set for his first across-the-channel adventure. Hooray!