Izzy goes to the movies...Whatever...

I got the go ahead to take the kids out to supper from Mrs. Narrator and decided I would say something cute and clever when I picked them up.
Daddy: " I'm gonna take you guys out for supper."
Izzy: "Why are we going out for supper?"
Daddy: "Mommy and I had a big fight and the three of us are going out for supper and then we are going to leave town."
The Boy: "No we aren't...You and Mommy didn't really get in a fight, did you? (I could her the nervousness creeping up in his voice) We aren't really just leaving are we?"
Izzy: Are we going on a road trip?( Barely containing her excitement) Can I get a drink of something when we get there!?!?!??"




A while ago I decided to take Izzy and the Boy to the movies. Aaah going to the theatre, one of those rites of passage that every youth experiences sooner or later. One day I fear the experience will disappear altogether with technology being what it is but for now I could still take the kids and stuff them with wonderful junk food for just slightly less that the cost of my first car. Izzy had never been to the movies before and I was excited to see what her reaction was going to be. The first time I took the Boy to the movies it was to see the Incredible Hulk in Dolby stereo. The sheer volume of the movie nearly blew the top of his head right off but this was a kids movie we were going to so I figured we would be alright.
We stood long enough that Izzy said it was taking forever and after nearly $40.00 we were on our way to the theatre.
"Holy crap, that is a big T.V.!" Izzy said.
I was going to interject and say that it wasn't a T.V. screen but a movie screen and there were various differences in the way the image arrives on both but I figured the stimulating and intellectual trivia of the workings of a movie theatre versus T.V. in the living room would go over like a fart in church, and so decided against it.
"That's not a T.V. Izzy, that's a movie screen. They're two completely different things." said the Boy.
The movie began and Izzy, who was sitting on my lap happily munching popcorn and slurping red Frutopia, buried her face in my chest and sobbed, "I wanna go home, I wanna go home. Too loud, too loud!!!" I could see she was deeply in the grips of the fear, her eyes wide and saucer like.
"It's ok honey," I said. "It's loud because there are speakers all over the theatre so everyone can hear it the same. If it's REALLY to loud for you, I'll take us home but you won't get to see the movie."
It went on like this for a bit, she would try to push her head through my ribcage to get away from the noise and every so often I would see her had stretch out and grope for the popcorn bag. The other kids in the theatre were laughing and having a good time and The Boy was laughing a and having a good time and I guess the sounds of all that out weighed whatever fear she had because she turned round and started watching the movie and all the people around us...from there it just became an Izzy show.
She reclined as best she could while sitting on my lap and put her feet up on the seat in front of her. Shovelling popcorn into her mouth and swilling her red Frutopia. All the while laughing big fakey belly laughs that were much too loud. I didn't try to stop any of it, I figured in a short while it's going to seem as though the world is leveling itself against her, telling her what she can and can't do. That and I was dozing off during most of the movie.
"Daddy, wake up this is a good part. Hah, hah, hah!!! Oh he shouldn't do that!"
Izzy had turned into Robert DeNiro without the cigar and the pesky violent nature thing... I thought the other parents would be getting annoyed at her boisterous enjoyment of the movie. After a quick look around I noticed a good many of them were smiling at us, at her...It is a powerful thing to see the unbridled rapture of kid watching a movie that they are really enjoying. I often wish I could still see the world through those eyes...



I blame Lady Gaga and her ilk for the disturbing trend that has crept into my daughter. If Izzy doesn't care for something being said to her or asked of her, the response used to be "Blah, blah, blah." Which would generally earn her a trip to her room. "Blah, blah, blah" did not last long.
It has been replaced however, with "Whatever," in completely the same vain and correct usage. I sense many impending trips to the Republic of Bedroom.

We have a cat, Gimmo. His name is actually Gizmo but Izzy could never manage that when she was younger and he became Gimmo. It stuck. Gimmo is roughly seventeen years old, which in cat years makes this his third or fourth re-incarnation. He has lost the ability to groom himself, he is stone deaf and arthritic and he has taken to waking up, vomiting with such force that he generally craps on the floor behind him and going back to sleep. In short he is a senile, puking, shitting, arthritic dread-locked, yowling, white hot mess. My mother suggested he should be hurried along on his journey to kitty heaven but Mrs. Narrator and I know our children too well and we don't want to give them any ideas as to what to do with us when we reach our twilight years.
Gimmo spends his days wandering the house yowling and howling for no apparent reason
"Shut up Gimmo!" Izzy will scream when ever he does it.
"Izzy, number one, he is deaf and can't hear you telling him to shut up and two, he is yowling like that because we think he is in pain." I told her.
"Oh Gimmo," she said with genuine compassion in her voice. "Are you in pain, are you hurt?"
Gimmo made a kind of burbling noise, pleased as he seemed, if not a little confused by the attention from the hell spawn that hates him.
"Aww Gimmo, see Daddy, Gimmo just told me he is not in pain now."
"Well he seems pretty happy just now, honey." I said.
Then she got right up in his face and almost nuzzled him and screamed, "NOW SHUT UP GIMMO!"
Without missing a beat, the cat let out a yowl that startled Izzy and she backed away.
"Whatever Gimmo, whatever."