The school marm and the whistle blower...Metal before bedtime...

There was a slight nip of winter in the air and the derby girls had invaded the house to make t-shirts. In these situations, the blender usually comes out and hilarity ensues. Izzy was naturally thrilled. I remember that nobody was drinking, not even your humble narrator(which in itself is strange with a house full of derby girls!) when Izzy began chasing after Mrs. Narrator.
Izzy:"Drink beer , Mummy!"
Mrs. Narrator:"What!?!"
Izzy:"Just drink it, Mummy. Drink it. drink it, drink it. Drink alcohol, drink it!"




When Izzy was a baby and a very colicky one at that, I used to sing her to sleep. Walking back and forth across the kitchen floor. I didn't (and still don't) know many sing babies to sleep kind of songs and so I sang her what I knew. The Beatles, the Who, the Pogues, I think I might have even thrown in a Clash song or two.I marvel when I see what a huge impact music has had on Izzy, though I can't say it surprises me. At four she know what she likes and doesn't like and will listen, ad nauseum, to her current favourite song until she learns the lyrics...well her versions of the lyrics. I actually caught myself telling her to "turn the racket down!" the other day...good god, have I become old and unhip at 42? Though it is a little disturbing to hear my daughter sing about brushing her teeth with a bottle of Jack (with an electric dolphin toothbrush no less) I appreciate how quickly she picked up the lyrics and the nuances of Kesha's dance moves. Ok so Izzy was starting to dance like a stripper and we had to put the kibosh on her Kesha listening...but still she is the only four year old that I know who's life has a soundtrack.
She has invented her own class of music. We will be driving along and Whitesnake or someone of their ilk will come on the radio. "Now THIS is crappery!" she will say. Her lyrical interpretations are the stuff of legend...we get to hear them endlessly and so I'll share them.
(To the tune of Heaven's on Fire by Kiss Izzy's favourite band): "Feel my feet, take it to Juan. Burn with me, Heaven's own farm." Brilliance at it's peak.
She went through a Kate Bush period for a while, Babooshka was at the top of the hit Parade.
Izzy: "What is a Babooshka?"
Daddy:"It's kind of a head scarf."
Izzy:"That's stupid. What the hell does that have to do with the song? Nothing, that's what."
Is she wrong?
Lately she has been singing song about everyday events. Some of her own writing(composed on her light up play along piano), some inspired by her favourites.
Izzy: (Tickling the ivories) "I should be wearing...I should be wearing...I should be wearing...SHOOOOO-OOOOES!!!!!!!"
The other night she came up with a grammy winner. (To the turn of Def Leppard's Foolin' but in the voice of (insert low guttural death metal voice of your choice)
Izz: "Buh...buh...buh...BEDTIME! dahn, dahn, ( yes she makes the guitar noise when she sings the song) Buh...buh...buh...BEDTIME!
Rock-a-bye baby...






Izzy has taken to wearing Mrs. Narrator's high heels and walking around the house with a pointer and asking everyone to point to a number 12. I was severely reprimanded and told to stay after school because I pointed to a number 12 instead of the 13 that she had actually meant. Mrs. Baker (I wasn't even going to begin to try and explain that one to her) told me that I was being punished for not knowing what she meant in the first place...good lord, there's two of them now...
All through out this Izzy had been asking me to play with the flashlight which I had been telling her she couldn't. She said it was the school microphone and that she needed it to make announcements. I explained that I have one flashlight left that hasn't disappeared or been dismantled and I wanted to keep it that way. Maybe I was sick or maybe she's just too cute but I relented and let her play with it.
She snatched it from my hands eagerly and held it to her lips.
Izzy: "Owen, come to the office. You have been very bad for saying crap and need to be punished. NOW OWEN!" ...tight pulled back hair and pantsuits are what all the four year olds are wearing these days, right?...

No matter how strong your relationship is or how idyllic your life, we are all human beings and we will all lose our patience and our tempers from time to time. Mrs. Narrator and I are no different. We do however, have the difference of having children that can sense when the upper hand of an argument is shifting and will jump on board with the winning team and gang up on the loser. I am seldom on the winning team.
One Sunday, tempers flared and patience boiled over and the shouting started. I quickly went from seething, to angry, to just going to go upstairs now and keep my mouth shut. And as I was going upstairs I distinctly heard my muse, my little inspiration say to Mrs. Narrator, "Oh yeah? Well he made me go to my room!"