There go my plans for the next 3 days.

Monkey Boy had the day off school, due to his early afternoon flight departure, so I took him along to Godzilla’s swimming lessons so Grumpy could get things finalised for the holiday.

Returned home, Godzilla still convinced he’s going with them. Monkey Boy – being ever so helpful – informed him he could not come because he dind’t “have a bag packed, and you will need t-shirts and shorts and pyjamas and shoes. And you don’t have any packed so you can’t come.”

Godzilla found himself a teensy Bob the Builder trolley bag, and packed himself some t-shirts, and shorts, and pyjamas and put some shoes on. And informed us all “I’n going to Thailand. So, humph.”

We loaded the car, Godzilla still unconvinced about staying home with me. “I will just sit on daddy’s lap on the plane. So, humph.”

Grumpy checked he had everything. Bags, check. Passports, check. Tickets, check.

All good.

Get to parking .. things are going well. Grab a ticket .. “Oooh, Mummy. Can I hold the ticket please? There, I has my ticket for the plane. So, humph.”

Get to check-in and the queue is reasonable sized. Bag up on the conveyor belt (“No, not your’s, you’re not going! Take it off, NOW”) and the check in process commences. Just as she hits the thing to take the bag away, she looks at the passport and stops.

“Nope, sorry, he’s not going” she says, pointing to Monkey Boy. “His passport doesn’t have enough time left on it.”


Apparently, there is a need for a minimum of 6 months left on your passport to travel to Thailand, and Monkey Boy had 5. To the day. So he wasn’t getting on the plane.

“But you can hop on,” she informs Grumpy, cheerily.

Fuck off. I’m not staying home with both of them!

We remove our bag, head over to the next counter to sort it all out. The counter that had a group of people standing around it with exactly the same problem. Flights rescheduled for Sunday. Calls to the passport office were made. Calls to friends to see if anyone could witness the new passport forms. Entertain bored children in stark airport for 30 minutes while we sorted it out. Explain to inquisitive 7 year old the history of passports dating back 497 years. Attempt to explain to distraught 4 year old why we are leaving airport without getting on plane, despite the fact he was never getting on it in the first place. Pay $276 for parking for 23 minutes.

Race to photo shop for new passport photos, and post office, where I had the pleasure of waiting in line for 23 minutes, because they only had one passport application form available in the “please take” holder, then went for a coffee while we filled them out. Bored with waiting for his milkshake, Godzilla helped himself to half my iced coffee while I was busy making sure I filled the documents in correctly. Photo shop guy agreed to witness the documents for us. He’d seen their birth photos, so we figured he knew us pretty well.

Raced home to grab birth certificate information, which I felt was best being filled out at home, but Grumpy had other ideas and grabbed the file.

The wrong file – the one with only a copy

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