I’m in our home office, inputting payroll and reading the #bcpoli thread on Twitter, when the current Mrs. Mink yells for help. She’s wrangling both kids from bath to bed, and Junior Minky has taken umbrage. I hustle upstairs and find my wife in the hall, a third hand away from successfully getting Kollie into a diaper. Levi, our four year old son, is in the bath, defiantly splashing water out of the tub onto the floor.
Me: “What seems to be the matter?”
He: “I am not going to cooperate”.
Me: “Why not?”
He: “I don’t want to live with you people anymore”.
Me: “Oh, where do you want to live then?”
Me: “Get out of the bath, brush your teeth and get into pajamas, and I’ll get a suitcase for you”.
I wrap him in his bear towel, the one with the sewn-in headpiece that gives him bear ears, and ferocious credibility, and follow him into his room. I see evidence of a toyphoon, the by-product of recreational activities that leave the play area looking like it was struck by a hurricane.
Me: “How will you get to Montreal?”
I hear my wife suppressing laughter and poke my head into our daughter’s room. We give each other the all knowing eye signal and contorted facial gesture to avoid Levi hearing that we’re having a laugh at his expense.
Now diapered, she hands Kollie to me so that I can read books and start the wind down process with her. She goes into Levi’s room, and finds him buck naked, under the bed, whimpering.
She: “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
He: “I don’t want to go to Montreal and live in a hotel.”
She: “That’s ok darling. You don’t have to go to Montreal. You can stay right here with your family. The people who love you”.
He: “No, I want to go to San Diego instead.”
Later that night, kids asleep, my wife and I retire to the office and take up our customary positions in front of our respective computers, she to do real world, career building work, me to surf the World Wide Web for pictures of monkeys carved from chocolate. I crack open a box of Exotic Caramels that Trudy brought back from Vosges in Chicago, take two, and pass one.
Me: “If the government lifted the moratorium on offshore drilling, BC would be out of debt overnight”.
She: “Unless they’re drilling for chocolate instead of oil, it won’t happen in our lifetime”.
Me: “No more health care funding issues. An iPad at every student’s desk. No fear we’ll end up under the Georgia Viaduct living in the box from the giant flat screen TV.
She refuses to engage any further my wanting to rail against the nimby’s. We want services but aren’t willing to pay for them, and we won’t allow our governors to exploit the obvious sources of wealth that would solve our problems. I lean back in my chair, sucking on a Hawaiian red sea salt caramel, and realize the two sides of the debate aren’t cooperating, and one of them should just move away.
Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.
863 West Hastings Street
Vancouver, BC CANADA
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181
Call the Vancouver store: 604.633.2451