It seems as if it were only yesterday that I was registering my daughter’s birth in a stuffy office somewhere in Sunnyvale, California (if I remember correctly).
How can it be, then, that I’ve already had to renew her passport?
I picked up new passports for Eloïse and myself today. The old ones have certainly seen a lot of action since they were granted back in 2005 by the embassy in Los Angeles, courtesy of the consulate in San Mateo (which has just moved to the altogether more sensible location of San Francisco).
She once again resembles the girl in the photo, the previous one having been taken in Los Altos, when she was just two weeks old. Border guards have been taking it on faith that she was the person pictured in the passport.
How time flies.