Yesterday was our last day in Vancouver. We got up late, packed, then went to Go Fish, a little fish-and-chips stall near Grandville Island. It’s right next to the water, and at this time of day and year the tiny seating area was entirely in shadow, though there’s a heat lamp or two.
A family of four or five were there. The mother was sitting on a (metal) chair directly under the heat lamp, with a small boy on her lap. Both were wearing what looked like heavy jackets. The father was at the counter waiting for the food, where there was also a water dispenser and cups.
Father: Want some water?
Mother (annoyed): NO. Nothing cold.
Father gets water anyway and puts the cup on the table near the boy.
Mother: I said, no cold water. It’s too cold. (to the boy) Don’t drink that, it’ll make you colder.
Boy reaches for cup as she talks and drinks.
Mother: Why did you do that?! It’s cold. It’ll make you colder.
Boy (slightly indignant): I’m thirsty.
It was the clearest example of “I’m cold, put on a sweater” that I’ve ever seen. The kid was wearing a jacket and sitting on a presumably warm lap under a heat lamp. The mother, I saw when they were leaving, was wearing thin leggings or yoga pants while sitting on a metal chair (which was cold, as I know since I was sitting on one too). Why she hadn’t put jeans on over her leggings, I’ve no idea. Why it never occurred to her that her kid, who was about to eat salty fish and chips, might be thirsty, I’ve also no idea.
The fish and chips were delicious, by the way. Even if by the end of the meal my fingertips were going numb and my backside was an ice block. The rest of me was fine.