Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

This is the line that goes through my head every time I enter a Registry of Motor Vehicles, as I did yesterday with Lydia to get her learner’s permit.

view from the floor, Watertown RMV waiting room, Feb 27 @ 4:23pm

While I don’t think my parents ever embarrassed me*, I do cross that line occasionally with my children. Usually they let me know and stop me from whatever I’m doing.

At the Registry, Lydia wasn’t too happy with me taking pictures of people in the waiting room. (Who knows when I’ll need a portrait of human abjection?) So I moved the camera to the floor.

Missions accomplished: learner’s permit gotten and pictures taken.

*Well, Mom, once there was a weird hairdo.

2 thoughts on “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

  1. It was when you and your peer group were getting your hair “frosted.” One morning I had a mother with brunette hair and by the afternoon, when you came to school, I didn’t.

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