Henry Goes to the DMV

Henry Goes to the DMV...sounds like a lovely and informational children's book, doesn't it?  Let me assure you, nothing about my tale is lovely.  Have a seat, grab a snack, and let me tell you about our trip to the DMV this morning.

It all started several weeks ago when I lost my driver's license.  I have been putting off getting another one because I hate going to the DMV.  The lines are ridiculous, there is always a crying baby, and it always smells weird.  I went Friday afternoon just to see what documents I needed to bring with me, and there were probably over 200 people waiting in line.  No thanks.

I decided this morning that I was going to be super sly and get there before they opened to avoid all those lines.  Henry usually takes a nap at around 8:00, so he would probably sleep in his stroller the whole time anyway.  Gosh, I'm such a good planner!  I pulled my hair back, put on just enough makeup not to scare people, packed the bare Hank essentials in a big bag, and off we went!  We were going to be in and out by 8:15 at the latest.

As I pull into the parking lot, I am dismayed to see a line of people that stretches from the door, all the way around the front, to the side of the building.  It's only 7:30, and it doesn't even open until 8:00!  I guess those people were feeling super sly this morning too.  I grab the stroller and take my place in line.  Behind me in line is a lady who is telling her small children about a drunk man who hit on her at the casino this weekend.  She pauses her story long enough to tell me how lucky I am that I have such an "easy baby."  I can't decide if I want to punch her in front of everyone or not.  I decide against it, and just smile and mumble "MHMMM."  Henry gives her a look that says, "Stick around lady, this show is just beginning."

It's 8:00.  Henry has decided not to take his morning nap.  He's squealing, kicking, and karate chopping anything within arm's reach of his stroller.  He grabs the driver's license paper out of my hand and has crumpled it up and put it in his mouth before I knew what hit me.  The doors finally open.  I am handed a number and take a seat.  Oh, what number am I, you ask?  206.  Two hundred. And six.  I debate whether or not to leave, but decide we have already put in almost 45 minutes.  It's do or die time.

Henry is tired of sitting in his stroller.  He sits in my lap for awhile, jumps, squeals, growls, puts my hair in his mouth, grabs the lady's shirt next to me, and eats the book I brought for him to read.  Finally, number 200 is called.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel!! We are going to make it!!!!!

Number 201...Henry grabs my hair and pulls my ponytail to one side, and takes most of my hair out too.

Number 202...I start to smell something.  Popcorn?  Why would someone have popcorn in a DMV at 9:00am?  


Number 203...Nope.  It's not popcorn.  Henry has chosen this moment to take his morning poo.


Number 204...I feel something warmish and wettish on my shirt.  Oh don't worry, it's just urine, not the popcorn poo.


Number 205....Henry throws his pacifier on the floor.  The FLOOR!  Well now I have to burn the paci.


NUMBER 206!!!!  I say "THANK GOD!" and the lady beside me begins to laugh.  I think she may be glad to see us go.  I try to strategically hold Henry in a way that will hide the wet spot on my shirt.  He accidentally punches me in the eye so that my right eye is watering and closed when we finally reach the counter.  


The little guy behind the counter was super understanding.  He waited patiently while I tried to get out all my necessary documents while holding Hank, and nicely asked me to place both thumbs on the glass at the same time.  I had to put Henry in the stroller, and he immediately begins to scream.  Without thinking I put his paci in my mouth and then stick it in his.   I remember about the paci falling on the DMV floor a moment too late.  Great, now my mouth is going to rot off.  Then he asked me to step back so that he could take my picture.  Excuse me?  I wasn't aware that I would need a new picture.  So in my picture I am red, sweaty, my ponytail is pulled to the side, and I can't open my watery right eye.   I try to ignore the sympathetic glances as we walk out the door.  Then it hits me:  I have become the stinky lady with the screaming child, the reason everyone hates the DMV.  Oh, the irony.  I change Henry's diaper in the trunk of the car in the parking lot.  He has worn himself out and is asleep before we leave the parking lot.  


Stay tuned for the next books in the series:  Henry Goes to the Optometrist and Henry Goes to the Salon!