Tonight we had a little adventure as I was fortunate enough to be backed into by another car on the Chaussee on our way to McDonalds. This would mark my first 'incident' since we moved here, and better yet, I was driving the Watkins car.
So, instead of McDonalds, we spent the next 2 hours at the police station, while I tried to navigate Belgian law in French and defend myself.
Thankfully, Dutch, you were along to ask every question there was to ask during this process.
"Hey Mommy, is this the police station?"
"Mommy, who is that man?"
"Mommy, are we going this way?"
"Hey Mommy, are you sitting there?"
"Mommy, is your shirt black?" ...
After the interrogation room and a breathalyzer, we were finally free to go, but only after a lecture in half French/half English about not having a Belgian drivers license and not carrying the insurance card in my car. At that point, I was just ready to have him throw me in jail and be down with it.
We made it home and you guys chomped on some challah bread and juice until Daddy came home. So much for McDonalds.
I didn't get a chance to take a picture today, but the look below is the same one Titus gave me after I told you it looked like we weren't going to make it to McDonalds.
|Photo by Nolan Tarnantino|