Skylar's personality for the past two months has been based off of getting our baby a passport as quickly as possible. I'm convinced the only reason he wants one is because he thinks it will be funny to see West's picture in an official government document wherein Skylar fully intends to pretend our infant is a spy.

He said it was a good idea to get one because of The Times and he wants to be ready to flee the country across rolling hills after singing Edelweiss to an auditorium of Nazis dressed in lederhosen. I fully expect to have to carry Skylar after exactly 400 meters of walking at which point he will complain that his "dainty ankles" can't take another step.

I have been to Europe with this man. I know him. I can already tell fleeing the country is going to be a pain in the ass, even if we will look hot while doing it.

I told Skylar under no circumstances was I going to help secure the passport because I officially opted out of helping in the tried and trued legal way. (Whenever he started talking about it I covered my ears and began shouting "this is not my problem.")

And I thought that would work but I forgot I married someone who is extremely manipulative and is able to get me to do whatever he wants by either looking slightly sad or slightly happy or slightly any other emotion. It's honestly an abuse of Pretty Privilege and someone should report him to whatever state agency is in charge of maintaining licensing of hot people.

And so, two weeks ago, I found myself against my will walking down the street with my husband and baby to have a photoshoot in the CVS.

This CVS was built a few years ago and Skylar has been mad about it ever since. It used to be a car wash and when that got bulldozed he started dreaming of what might replace it. A coffee shop? A J.Crew? A quaint bookstore where he'd have a meet cute with his second much richer but obviously less cute husband?

When the CVS sign got slapped onto the new building Skylar nearly declared war and I'm not even sure he has the power to do that. He has spent the last 36 months complaining every single day that the last thing we need on our street is a CVS. He has also gone to that CVS every single day for the last 36 months. Make it make sense.

Skylar had confirmed on CVS's website that they took passport photos for people of all ages and since our baby is one of the ages, we figured CVS would take his. And so we were surprised when we walked into the store and asked a stern-looking woman with a nametag if she could help us and she snapped "I don't do photos for infants."

Now, you and I, adorable little mouse-faced creatures who apologize to the air we breathe for disrupting it, would handle this situation in a completely reasonable way: Immediately and without questioning anything turn around and evacuate the CVS and never go back.

But Skylar is not you and I. When faced with a reality that inconveniences him, this man simply alters the reality. I think this may be another abuse of Pretty Privilege. And maybe even Gay Privilege. And I didn't even know you could abuse that one.

When this woman told us she didn't do photos for babies, Skylar simply smiled and said "what if it's a good baby?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "they're all 'good' babies."

Again, you and I would not have even gotten this far into the conversation in the first place. We would have forfeited all our rights long before this moment. But even if we became momentarily possessed by the spirit of Cher and pushed back against the initial protestation, we would most certainly have jumped ship at this point.

The next thing I knew, this man was pulling white sheets and wardrobe changes out of a diaper bag to demonstrate his vision for the photoshoot to this CVS employee who was not getting paid enough to put up with any of this. It was at this point I just walked away to pretend to go shopping down the feminine products aisle. I learned a lot. (All good things.)

For the next ten minutes I caught the occasional glimpses of Skylar stage-momming our infant into dramatic poses while the employee snapped image after image like this was an episode of America's Next Top Model.

I tell you, this woman ended up walking Skylar to the door at the end of this, nearly arm-in-arm, laughing with him and even saying at one point "you were right. This is a good baby." When we walked out I asked him how on earth he had charmed her and he just shrugged and said "grumpy older women are my demographic." And it's true. They make up nearly half his friend groups.

Yesterday I went back to CVS by myself and the moment I walked in the employee grinned, enthusiastically waved at me, and asked where Skylar was.

The point is, Skylar is not living in the same world as you and me.

I thought I was free from anymore passport errands but then I was informed that in order to get a passport for a baby every living parent who is listed on the baby's birth certificate has to appear in person to perform an interpretive synchronized pole dance for a librarian. And so, Skylar forced me into a car by gunpoint one evening and drove us to the library carrying a folder of 6,000 documents he apparently secured and filled out all on his own.

The library lady who helped us was terrific, which I will say about anyone who unprompted informs us our baby is cute. Which she did.

It's amazing the amount of paperwork you have to fill out and appointments you have to attend to validate the existence of a new person in your charge. West sleeps through most of it and has not said one single "thank you" to either of us. Granted he hasn't said any other words, either. Because he seven months old.

But I guess I thought I should document our incredible sacrifices on this here Exceptional Website. One day, when he seems exhausted with having to organize my pills or undo a scam I fell into when I took an email from a Nigerian prince seriously, I'll point him to this content and say, "I'll have you know I once went to CVS just so you could flee the country if you wanted."

It's the least I can do as I continue on my education as a new parent—plant the seeds so I can one day guilt my child into helping me.

~It Just Gets Stranger