I went to the Paris Préfecture de Police this week with Kid 3 and Mr. Taquet, the Frenchman we hired to help us with tricky French visa bureaucracy. It was the third time we had been to that office trying to get one little stamp in my son’s passport, and I was going to write a funny blog post about it. The absurdity of the French legal system is low-hanging fruit for humor. I’d describe the three different clerks that gave us three different answers, the various combinations of family members and legal assistants and paperwork we were required to produce each time, the way we finally got the stamp after Mr. Taquet raised his voice and pounded on the desk, demanding to see le chef du chef. You were going to laugh.