Well there’s real truth, and then there’s bureaucratic truth. Remember for my residence permit we had to prove we’re married using a marriage certificate that is less than three months old? Even though our marriage is considerably more than three months old? Yeah, well, we also had to prove that our kids are ours, and the real truth – use your eyes, Ignatz looks like DrBob with my nose photoshopped on, who else’s kid could he possibly be? – is not sufficient.
So DrBob phoned Pasing (suburb of Munich) and they mailed him a special apostilled certified extracted official copy of Ig’s birth certificate, and then I filled out a form and sent a check and self-addressed envelope to Kevin with detailed instructions about buying stamps to mail it to Wisconsin and more stamps for the Wisconsin people to mail it to me here and then waited and jittered for way more time than you’d think would be necessary if you’d paid the extra 150% for expedited service for Snig’s special apostilled certified extracted official copy of a birth certificate, and finally – FINALLY! – today we went to the city office-thingy and had our kids officially declared to be really and bureaucratically our kids (can I get a sheesh?).
And we devoutly hope there will be no more stupid pointless hoops to jump through. But we secretly doubt it.
Song du jour of the day: Don’t Cry, by Asia. Look! A mullet and a headband! It’s like the 80s squared!