As we approached the border into Canada, John and I both got our drivers licenses ready. We nosed our car into a line and waited, anxious for our first trip out of the US as adults (what can I say? We’re provincial.)
Canadian Border Guard Lady (who looked a lot like Kate from Lost): How many in the car today?
John: Two adults and 3 children.
CBGL: Passports, drivers licenses, or birth certificates please.
John: Uh… We have drivers licenses for us, but no birth certificates for the kids.
CBGL: Stops everything and stares at the idiot Americans in the mini van.
Sara (In one of my more brilliant moments): I looked on the internet! It didn’t say anything about birth certificates.
CBGL: (insert deadly stare) You. don’t. have. birth. certificates?
John: (glances at Sara) Uh, no.
Sara: But! (insert semi-whiney voice as I think about the hours we will be adding to our trip if we have to go around Canada instead of through it.) I looked on the internet!
CBGL: (insert deadlier stare coupled with authoritative-sounding voice) You do realize, don’t you, that you are taking your three children across a foreign border, into another country? And you didn’t bring their birth certificates?
deadliest stare yet.
Does this seem intelligent to YOU? (John and I swear we saw a hint of a smile at this point…)
Sara: ????? (thinking: it is freaking C-a-n-a-d-a)
John: Well. Um. Now that you put it that way, no.
So in the end, she took their names, birth dates and our expected route info and told us we would be allowed to enter Canada this one time but never again. Unless we managed to bring birth certificates, that is.