Everyone loves their kid’s smile. When they are babies and we make them smile or laugh, it’s akin to winning the lottery. I still remember the first time I made son #1 giggle uncontrollably. I was opening a garbage bag and I said, “Whoops!” He could not stop laughing. It was absolutely precious. So I kept doing it. I guess that is why he thinks I am so annoying. I just don’t know when enough is enough. However, what is a parent to do when a child’s smile becomes a bureaucratic nightmare?
My whole life, people always told me what big eyes I have. Never knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing, I would just say “Thank you” or “The better to see you with, my dear” and go on. Husband #1 does not have big eyes. He has squinty eyes. Whenever husband #1 smiles, his eyes pretty much disappear into a thin line. Son #1 has inherited this endearing trait. As well as his love for minyan, but that is for another column.
This brings us to the “Great Passport Fiasco of 2011.” Son #1 needed to get a new passport before he went off to camp because we were taking our baseball road trip “international” (Toronto…very fancy). We took the pictures and sent the application off to Washington. A few weeks later, I got a letter in the mail telling me that son #1’s picture was rejected because of the size of his eyes. Excuse me? I called the passport office and explained to them that those are his eyes, his father has the same eyes, he is in camp so we can’t retake the picture and we need the passport or they won’t let him into Canada. (Secretly, I was hoping they wouldn’t let me into Canada, but no such luck.) The woman on the other end of the line was very lovely and helpful and told me not to worry. The passport arrived in the mail a few days later.
Fast forward to five years later and the “Great Passport Fiasco of 2016.” Son #1 needed a new passport for his summer itinerary. Being the responsible and organized mother that I am, I made the appointment at the post office to take his picture and do the paperwork. Alice, the woman in charge of passports, was great. You are no longer allowed to smile for pictures. They need to have a really clear view of your face. Eyes wide open, mouth shut, no expression. We filled out the required paperwork, finished our appointment and off the application went to Washington. Four weeks later, a letter arrives in the mail. Son #1’s picture was rejected because of his eyes. Again. The kid wasn’t even smiling. I called the office, but since he is now considered an adult, he would have to make the phone call himself and they couldn’t help me. Hey there—any of you out there have 19-year-old sons who are actually cooperative? That’s what I thought.
Back to the post office we went and Alice turned the whole experience into a Vogue Magazine photo shoot. She was determined to get the perfect shot. So with the wind machine blowing and some Madonna playing in the background, this was happening. Son #1 made his eyes bigger, eye brows up, eye brows down, a slight grin, no grin. All this, while I was trying not to make him laugh. We had about six photos to choose from. In the interim, I had asked my cousin for a doctor’s note confirming that my child does, indeed, have squinty eyes—I am assuming there was a medical term for that, but I never got that far. We took all six photos and attached a note saying, “Dear Passport Office: This is what we have for you. Please pick the one you like the best as we have no idea what you are looking for and there is nothing we can do about the size of son #1’s eyes.”
Needless to say, the passport arrived two weeks later. Since he is over 16, son #1 won’t need to reapply for another passport until he is 29. At that point, I am hoping he will be his wife’s problem, but no matter what the passport office says, I still think he has the the greatest smile around.
By Banji Latkin Ganchrow
Banji Ganchrow fondly recalls the passport photo she took that even scared the customs official.
