Izzy's first haircut...Kleptobel...

Izzy was playing with several pairs of Mrs. Narrators shoes...
Daddy:"How many shoes do you need out? Put the ones away that you aren't playing with.
Izzy:"But I'm still playing with all of them."
Daddy:"You've only got two feet, you can only play with one pair of shoes at a time. Put the rest away in the closet."
Izzy:"But daddy, I need the shoes to be out and my leg really really hurts. It hurts too much to put shoes away."(at least that's what I could make out through instantly whipped up tears)
Daddy:If your leg hurts, you should lie down on the couch and you can't wear shoes on the furniture. Put them in the closet."
She went out in defeat and started to put the shoes away. From the entry room with the shoe closet I heard Wham..."Jackass." Wham..."Jackass." Wham..."Jackass." I wanted to go look but thought better of it just as she was coming back into the living room.
Daddy:"Put all the shoes away?"
Izzy:"No. The jackass shoes wouldn't fit in the closet so I just put them on the shoe racket."




So Isobel went for a haircut this past weekend. Of course it isn't actually Isobel's first haircut, Mrs. Narrator has been giving her Moe Howard trims for ever and a day. It isn't even her first 'going to a salon' haircut. But Izzy's hair has been an adventure since the beginning. She was born with hair (greasy and nasty as it was) and it seemed that was her hair quotient, used up all at once because it never much grew after that. She had a mullet for as long as any of us can remember and I think we were honestly a little afraid to cut it, in case it never grew back. But grow it did and soon, like every little girl I have ever known became wild and unruly and cool and so very metal and got entangled in everything. I couldn't pick her up without pulling her hair. Putting on her jacket became a two and three man job between holding her hair and putting on the jacket and moving the hair and zipping the jacket. Putting her in her carseat was a nightmare of tugged tresses and tears. But no more my friends...
Isobel's new favourite movie is "Ramona and Bezus" which after only a few viewings, she can recite almost entirely from memory. The title character Ramona has a cute bob haircut and Izzy was instantly taken with it.
"I want my hair like that." she said and after more than a couple of "Are you sure?" it was decided to make her a hair appointment. The Boy also went along for his biannual, nothing too drastic trim. (Which he always claims as too short) So I kissed her goodbye and took one last look at her long hair.
I am not a fan of long hair, really but when you see something everyday for that long you get accustomed to it. I knew it would be different but when she walked (read strutted like a model, complete with a little spin) through the door, you could have knocked me over with a feather.
"Do you like it?" I asked her.
"No, I love it." she replied and modeled herself off into the living room. She actually would do a little end of the cat walk turn wherever she walked for the next couple of days but I was happy that she liked it. It could have been so much worse if she had hated it and wanted her old hair back. I can see myself now going to the salon and getting them to explain to Isobel that you can't just stick hair back on. Or worse going wig shopping with a five year old.
The funniest thing about this haircut is she seemed to grow a bunch of years right after she got it. She left the house as a little girl, my little girl and came back a full blown kid. It made me think that she is growing up a bit more every day and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop this crazy ride except sigh and try to hang on...






I'm certain Isobel isn't the only kid who has ever been like this but lately we've started noticing that she takes things. Mostly Mrs. Narrators things and the important ones at that. There's no malice in it, it's just that Izzy chooses to incorporate things within her reach as part of the ever growing make believe kingdom she plays in. If she is not getting herself into trouble or being a pest to anyone else, you tend not to notice what she is up to. And I honestly don't believe that Isobel thinks what she is doing is wrong. She's never sneaky about it, she quite matter of fact about everything she does in her world.
Unfortunately her world and ours don't often exist harmoniously. Things tend to turn up missing when they are needed most...as is always the way.
In no particular order, Isobel has "misplaced" the following;
My wallet and various items therein, Mrs. Narrator's wallet, (on two separate occasions) Mrs. Narrator's birth certificate, (in one of the wallets) Mrs. Narrator's car keys, (at least three times and always on the way out the door when they are discovered gone).
Here is where the fun begins. Trying to remain calm while attempting to extract information from a child that knows you are upset and has become a deer caught in the headlights, is really the purest example of the curse that you parents spat at you when you were young."Just wait until you have kids of your own..."
Now you do and now you are late for a Doctor's appointment looking for a wallet that will turn up two days later in a Lego container or car keys that appear mysteriously in a sewing machine box or a credit card that will turn up a week after you have abandoned hope of finding it, in a bag in your bedroom closet that the child had no access to. And the best is even if you lose your mind and blow up at the child...it won't stop her from doing it...Kleptobel lives!