Izzy's Easter Message to the World...Total Izzy-osity...

As we had a decided lack of invitations to Easter dinner with my family or Mrs. Narrator's family...or anybody's family for that matter, we decided to have our own sit down type dinner. A great big ham and all the appropriate Easter trimmings therein.
Isobel: "What are we having for supper?"
Daddy: "A big ham with corn and scalloped potatoes."
Isobel: "Corn on the cob?"
Daddy: "Yes but without the cob."
Isobel: "Awww, I want corn on the cob, not no cob corn. What else are we having?"
Daddy: "Yummy ham and scalloped potatoes."
Isobel: "Oh god, no cob with my corn and nothing else to eat."
Daddy: "Try the ham, I think you will like it. It's sorta like bacon."
Isobel: (Tries ham after much deliberation and one threat of being sent to room for non-consumption of supper) "Oh my god, I love this ham!(chew chew) This ham is so good (lip smack, smack) This tastes like...Tae Kwon Do.


We were downstairs, as we often find ourselves, me on the treadmill and Izzy preaching to the huddled masses in her imaginary world. "Easter is coming soon and you have all been rotten swines!" she began. "Easter Bunny will not be bringing chocolate for none of you. NONE!" She became very quiet and I imagined it was because she was basking in the sycophantic wailing of her toadies. A new voice emerged.
"O.K. boys and girls, Easter Bunny will be coming soon and he will bring treats to everyone that is good." She had turned herself completely around to face the opposite way from the 'minions' she was just chastising. She was speaking in very calm, measured tones and holding a dancing Santa toy. I thought I might point out the seasonal discrepancy but thought better of it. "So boys and girls if you're good, like Santa is good, not like THEM," she blurted, motioning to the invisible quaking minions behind her. "Then Easter Bunny will come and bring you..." Her voice trailed off.
"Daddy?" she called out.
"Yes my daughter?" I asked , sensing the imminent question would not have an easy or one word answer.
"Do bunnies really lay eggs?"
Oh my head began to swim with smart-assed answers about what bunnies really lay began to fly into my head but she is only five and wouldn't get the jokes anyway. I thought I would save these jokes for the Easters yet to be. I opted for the short straightforward answer.
"No, bunnies do not lay eggs."
"How does Easter Bunny leave eggs then?" she asked.
"Well you see," I began. "The baby jesus rides The Easter Bunny all across the world delivering colourful candy eggs to all the children everywhere who have put a cod-fish on top of the stove."
She stood there blinking for what seemed like forever, taking in this information and mulling it over.
"Daddy?"she asked.
"Yes?"
"That does not even make any sense." Where do the eggs come from. If you don't know, you can tell me. It's O.K."
Well she bought it for half a second anyway. She went on to ask me if having a bunny for a pet made the Easter bunny feel better and then give you more candy. I was floored by the logic in thins line of thinking but explained to her that having rodents for pets, no matter how cute and fuzzy they are, did not guarantee more candy. If fact it didn't guarantee anything but handfuls of rabbit crap.
Later on that night as we were getting ready for bed, she imagined that if Easter bunny were there right then he would crawl all over her and say 'Happy Easter everbody' and crap on your head...I imagine Hallmark will be calling anytime now...As an after thought, The Easter glut of chocolate consumption began for Isobel and The Boy at around 7:00 a.m. and continued until just before bedtime. There have been studies which claim there is no correlation between sugar consumption and acting freaking out crazy and otherwise ill-mannered behaviour...HORSE PISS.






We were heading up to bed the other night and Izzy pulled up her underpants in such a way that the back of them disappeared between her little butt cheeks. Like a thong.
"Izzy what are you doing?" I asked.
"I like it like that," she replied. "it's comfortable."
"She gets this from your people," said Mrs. Narrator. "Nobody in my family does this kind of thing."
Even The Boy chimed in; "Yeah Sid, this is from your side of the family!"
"Don't look at me, my people wear kilts and no underpants. We don't cram the underpants up under there."
We all had a good laugh and soon I found myself reading to her and watching her eyes begin to close.
"Daddy?" Isobel asked barely awake.
"Yes?"
"If I put on my kilt, can I take off my underpants?"
"Not tonight, honey." I said.