Home is getting closer

Yesterday (Monday), we submitted Vitalik's passport application. The criminal background check was supposed to be completed today at which time they would call and tell us to come down for the digital passport picture. We wanted to go visit the Radooga camp that is currently going on near Kyiv and Sasha told me if we had not heard from the passport office by 3:00, we would more than likely not go today. So sometime after 3:00, we hop on the metro; get to Nivki, get a cab and just hope we get home sometime this month. We are not 5 minutes from the metro when Sasha calls and says we need to be at the passport office. So we just have the taxi turn around and take us back to the Center. At 4:20, Sasha calls back and says we need to be at the office by 4:45. I tell him where we are and ask if we can make it. He says yes, if there is no traffic. Have you EVER been in Kyiv when there was no traffic. Well, I just prayed we'd make it. And if not, that we'd get home whenever God decided it was time. I have to say, traffic today was lighter than I have ever seen it. We made it to the passport office with time to spare, finished up and were back out to Busha in time for dinner and the worship service at the Radooga camp. The passport is SUPPOSED to be ready Thursday afternoon. If so, we will plan to come home on Saturday.

Just a word about the photograph. Vitalik was excited about going out to the camp. Roman was not. I knew that it was iffy whether or not they would be able to handle new people in a new place. We were there maybe all of 5 minutes before they were letting me know they couldn't handle it. "Posh lee, Mom." (Let's go) The picture was taken at dinner. They did not want to eat; nor did they want to attend the worship service. They weren't happy but they did OK. Other than complaining, and striking these flattering poses, they actually did pretty good. Oleg drove us back to the metro after a couple of hours; we sat down on the metro and Vitalik leans over and asks "What's for dinner?" My reply: McDonalds. Unhappiness forgotten.