A baby born to American citizens in the UK on a limited visa without residency, in my mind, is a person with no country. Not a citizen here and not an automatic American citizen either. This made me nervous. Like Tom Hanks in that movie where he had that weird accent and lived at the airport. Okay not like that at all. But remember that mosaic wall he made? Awesome!
Today we took the wee one to the U.S. Embassy, in posh Mayfair, to apply for his passport and social security number. Bryan took the day off work and it was a good thing as it was quite the process. It was a cool experience, if even just for the many families we spoke to in the waiting area. It’s amazing to see who has an American passport. There are so many Americans that marry a Brit, move here and raise a gaggle of children here. Those kids get U.S. passports, no matter how English they seem. I swear I saw Harry Potter in line speaking like Simon Cowell and wearing a Giants t-shirt. It’s like a very cool small international world crowd. We heard multiple love stories of Yankee/Brit marriages. My fave was the couple that lived in Park Slope for 6 years and then London for 6 years. The children get the coolest bizarre-o half-breed accents. I am jealous.
You will not be surprised to learn there is a monstrously hulkingly huge eagle looming down from above the Embassy. I kept thinking George W. Bush was going to mount the eagle and then repel down the building facade. Americans!
