I didn't plan on having a chaotic dinner at a '50s diner with delicious burgers and French wine with new friends while the boys played video games and Lauren colored. I didn't plan on places opening late on weekends if they opened at all so we walked a mile or more with the kids around the lake in the Bois de la Cambre on a perfect end of summer day. I didn't plan on watching Caroline run around the empty plaza in front of the European Parliament when she couldn't stay quiet at church. I didn't plan on hearing a marching band playing trumpets at a street fair that went on for blocks like a neighborhood garage sale when I walked to a sporting goods store on the other side of the commune. I didn't plan on ending the weekend at a pool party in our building organized by my friendly upstairs neighbor, her friend from Israel, the French family upstairs and eight kids under 10. Lastly I didn't plan on watching the kids run around in towels in the courtyard because Cole and his new buddy Anton made the building fire alarm sound by playing with the sauna door by the pool room.
But then Jesse & I ended up outside Chez Franz late Saturday night, sipping drinks in the cool autumn air, listening to incessant French babble. And we walked home.
Moments like these are what I'd dreamed of when we contemplated moving to Europe. Sometimes it's what you expect that thrills you.
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