Too good to be true...

Yesterday Ola, the kids, and I went back to the Regional Bureaucratic Centre (not it's real name, which I don't even know, but its function) to learn the fate of our petition to amend Christopher's name by the addition of Cleisthenes.  If you have been reading along and paying attention, you will remember that Poland permits only two names plus a surname, so in Poland it will be Christopher Cleisthenes rather than Christopher Cleisthenes Thomas Paine.  We were also able to learn the National ID number (called a Pesel number) for Margaret Athena.

It was remarkably smooth sailing, and not an impossible amount of time waiting in the corridors.  Chris, as he generally does, charmed everyone including the security guards.  Being a 23 month old, he can be a lot of work.  He will take off and get into mischief in the blink of an eye whenever he gets the chance.  At the Bureaucratic Centre he disappeared for a second and we found he's climbed halfway up the grand staircase.  No harm done, fortunately, but a 23 month old is not always fully in control of all his muscles; he could have tripped, fallen, and rolled down the staircase.  He didn't, but these possibilities are real, and heart-stopping to his parents.  We don't want to stifle his adventurousness.  At the same time, we want him to reach a ripe old age with all his limbs intact and his brain functions unimpaired.

After the Bureaucratic Centre it was time to go to the Polish Passport office.  Ola had done her homework and was fully prepared with photos, birth certificates, and the other things Poland requires for passports.  Ola's needed updating to account for her married name, which, following Polish tradition, is now Swider-Hingston.  Christopher's needed up dating to account for his newly formalised middle name.  And Meggie needed one, so that we can all leave Poland on a vacation we have been planning to see Roman-Moorish-Jewish Spain.

There was quite a lot of paperwork to fill in, most of it repetitive.  (I think I had to write our street address three times on each application form, and I couldn't figure out why, since that is one of the things that databases are meant to do.)  As there was no grand staircase, Christopher took the opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the water cooler-heater, the cup dispenser, and the capacity of the drip-tray.  In a jiffy he was soaking wet and so was the floor of the passport centre.  Fortunately, Ola is prepared for our intrepid boy's exploits (up to a point).  She had packed a complete change of clothes.   Responding to Christopher's charm and delight, the staff of the office seemed not the least bit irritated by his antics, though the looks we got from other customers indicated a high degree of disapproval, which went up the older people got.  It is difficult to know exactly what to do, but I think Ola get's the balance right.  First importance is Chris.  He needs to be safe and cared for.  He also needs to feel encouraged to explore and experiment, and therefore can't be bombarded by "No," "Don't touch that," and similar things.  But he must also know that the world contains other people who have rights -- such as the right not to have their work made substantially more difficult and the right not to have their personal space made intolerable.  After that, what people think matters less and less.

We got out of there just as the place was closing (it closes at 15:15, but I have no idea why)  We had been there at least two hours, but the children had behaved as well as could be expected, which is to say that neither had started crying.  Most amazing was that the passport office was able to tell us when to return to collect the passports.  25 March -- the day after Christopher's second birthday.  This is better than the "We'll notify you" I had been expecting -- the kind of indeterminate non-answer I have come to expect from bureaucrats everywhere, but especially from those in this country.  It's a tiny bit unfortunate, because it means that we will not be able to celebrate Christopher's birthday in Spain, which had been the plan.