Dear Canada, grow a backbone!

Well, Canada, we’re in another pickle. The on-going “me, too!” power struggle that has dogged us for five years is now going into Round 3, thanks to a non-confidence (read: get enough people to whine the ruling party out of power) vote. In just over a month, we’re back at the polls, likely to do what we did last time, and the time before that: Make no decision whatsoever.
I dunno what it is, but we Canadians seem to really love to not rock the boat. We don’t want heavy-handed politics, but we also want our cake and eat it, too. We want our health care, dammit, but we don’t want to pay for it. We want to leave our lights on 24/7, but please don’t raise our energy bills. And above all, we still want to be the “Nice” people in North America.
Let’s face it, folks, we’re a bunch of pansies.
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Happy first birthday, Choo Choo!

Well, my little girl, you’re a year old today. A year ago, you came into our world early, confused, cold, and separated from Mommy. It wasn’t exactly how any of us had hoped you’d arrive, but we were happy to have you no matter how it all went.
Mommy and I had been looking forward to today for a long time. We wanted your first birthday to be small, surrounded with just a few of us, making as much fuss as we could without completely overwhelming you. Today wasn’t really about you, so much as it was about us. You see, we’re actually kind of sad, today.
Why? Well, you’re no longer our baby girl. You’re grown up.
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Baby steps

Well, Choo Choo, your first birthday is fast approaching. Four days, now, as a matter of fact. On Friday, you’ll turn 1, and Mommy and I will shed a tear as a our last baby ceases to be a baby and becomes a toddler.  “Toddler” being the key word, of course.
And by “toddler”, I mean “toddle”, which is about the best way to describe your current state of bipedal motion. You’ve been scooting for the last couple of months, using an improvised push with your left hand to shove your left leg forward while seated, and using your right leg to pull at the same time.  But you’ve started walking in short bursts, and are on the cusp of walking on your own.
If only you’d let go of Mommy and I … which we really don’t want you to do.
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