The Things We Do For Our Kids

Well, I went down to My BMV (that just makes me feel warm all over, like they want me to know it's a place I can be proud of, like my home, my community, my country...) to get some info about what I needed to grab a registration for a car my son had just bought hisself in another state.
Now my BMV ain't known for it's friendly clerks and fast service, so I decided to stop by before work to get her done. I could have waited until the night they stay open later, but this was kind of urgent. I didn't want my son driving around without proof that he didn't steal that car. I knew I needed to fill out some forms, and one of them would get me some kind of power, like them rich lawyers have, but I wanted to find out what I needed for sure.
I only had to stand in line about 15 mins and the lady told me what I needed to bring in; about 4 things and my son would need to print them off the internet and mail them to me. She said all this without even smiling so I knew we were into some serious business. I strutted out of there feeling pretty smart and called my son.
When those papers came in the mail, I marched back into my BMV to finish the job. The same lady looked at what I had, the attorney paper and the form the police had filled out. Again, without smiling, she said what I had was good, but I needed the title to the car. I felt so stupid. I forgot to tell my son to send the title. Slowly, I felt the air leak out of my confidence.
About a week later I went back. The attorney power paper said something about needing to be notarized, but in the fine print it also said the Bureau might be able to do it there. I was a little nervous about that, but the lady had looked at it last time and had never said anything about notarizing. Well, wouldn't you know it, out of all the other ladies there I got Ms. Stone Face again. I thought maybe that was good cause she would remember what I was trying to do. If she remembered me, she didn't let on and as she read them papers real good, I got that nervous feeling that you get at the dentist office or when you start a new job and don't know what everybody else knows.
Finally, she said she was sorry but the attorney paper need to be notarized. I asked if they could do it there, but she said my son had to do it. I must have looked like a dog with its tail between its legs when I left there that day.
My son paid $18.30 to overnight another form to me that had that official pimply feeling seal on it. By now I was a nervous wreck about going back to that place. I must have checked that I had all the forms together and with me about 4 or 5 times the night before the next morning I went back. I prayed I wouldn't get Stone Face again, but someone who would give me a little support and encouragement and maybe give me my pride back.
I sat in front of a different woman this time and as I showed her the papers she actually began to start typing information. Then came the questions. "What color is the car?" I've never seen it, but she says it's important so I call the son up and he tells me it's white. "Did he pay sales tax when he bought it?" Another phone call, but it didn't really matter. If he did he needs a bill of sale as proof which I sure don't have. I guess it's good the place wasn't busy as my son and I kept the cell phone buzzing. It seems the only friendly in this lady was the smile. She didn't respond to any of my attempts at humor or conversation.
Done at last, free at last, I took the new license plate and the registration straight to the Post Office. I filled out one of those Express Mail forms, paid the overnight fee to have it arrive l day later. It seems some zip codes are not close enough to airports to get it the next day. (You'd think there would be a discount for that).
My son did get his stuff right on time and I am now an expert on getting a registration for someone out of state who asks me to sign that form to do that dirty lawyer work. I says to the last lady at My BMV that there should be a list somewheres of the steps you need to take and each piece of darn paper you need to get the job done. She just smiled.