I went back to the Social Security office. I was forced by my greedy heart that wanted a tax return.
The whole drive there, my mind was in survival mode, sending off warnings and telling me to turn around and just go home.
I felt I had a better plan this time...
I woke up at the crack of dawn, as to procure a good spot in line before the office even opened.
I was there before anyone else and yes, I was first. I was carefully guarding my 2 foot x 3 foot sidewalk space and was willing to pull out my special ka-ra-te moves that I save for such special occasions. They resemble but are not limited to:



I had every piece of documentation they had listed on the form. However, the guy behind the counter laughed when I asked for the number. He said there was no way to get it until the adoption was final. He sent me to the IRS building.
I go to the IRS building only to be told I can get a Social Security Card for him and to over to the Social Security Office.
So I gave up and went to get doughnuts at my neighbor's bakery.
I did end up getting the number later that day and we have officially filed our taxes. phew. Mission accomplished.
The entire ordeal will be carefully tucked away under "experiences not to repeat/avoid in the future". You know, this is the spot in the brain where you can locate past surgeries and major catastrophes.