But moving to another country is a whole different level of difficult. The first thing I noticed about America is this little torture chamber that all the cars have called Child Safety Seats.
Really Gringos?
I'm used to being in the middle of the action, not buckled to a plastic rocking chair facing the back window. THE BACK WINDOW? Great. So now I'm supposed to feel like I'm flying on Southwest Airlines everytime Daddy takes me to the store?
Whatever.
So I wake up in Miami in my new room and everything is a blurr. I remember the car ride to the airport in Bogota... and I remember getting on the plane and then Mommy surprised me with an extra-large bottle of formula. I gulped it down and then... the next thing I know I'm in a ladies room at the Miami airport and Mommy is changing my diaper. What happened? I thought that flight was supposed to last three and a half hours... oh well.
So we make our way to the customs and immigration area of the Miami airport and they tell us to go wait in a little room while they revise and review all of my paperwork. Daddy says that they just want to make sure that everything is legal and on the up and up and that it shouldn't take long. Well quick revision takes over an hour and a half to confirm. And since we landed at 11 PM, it was now getting close to one in the morning and we were still at the airport wating to start our new lives.
Finally the customs agent appears from the office and stamps my passport as approved and declares me an American Citizen.
Mommy cried...
Daddy sighed...
And I...