Isobel: "Look Daddy, look what I got from my trip at school.
Daddy: "Oh, lookie there. It's a big ball of mud and horse crap."
Isobel: "Daddy! It's my own pumpkin. I mean I found it and picked it for myself."
Daddy: "Oh look, there's a bit of orange under all that mud and horse crap. Maybe I could give it a wash."
Isobel: Really? You can make it all orange?"
Daddy: "Yep. Did you think that's just how it was?"
Isobel: "Maybe."
Daddy: "Now that your pumpkin is all clean what are you going to do?"
Isobel "I'm going to haunt my house. And when I get back, I'm going to keep...my...eye...on...you...muahahaha!"
I have to admit I was a little reluctant to send Isobel to school with our phone number written on a small piece of paper. She had said she needed to give it to her friend Candace who said she was going to call her. Maybe I was being old fashioned...that sort of automatic distrust of anyone wanting information from you. What if they give that information to someone who could do harm to me? Like the police or the tax department.
But this whole Father thing has really put things in a different light for me. I pay tax, I don't do illegal things (save maybe for the odd bout of speeding) and Isobel's friend Candace is five. I Know 'out of the mouths of babes' and all that but honestly, what sort of trouble could a five year old put on my doorstep anyway? It's that sort of arm's length attitude that has made the world an unhappy place and kept my parents weird and distant all of their adult lives...Name, rank and serial number. Never give 'em anything else...nonsense.
So I sent Izzy off to school with the number safely tucked into her lunch box. Figuring she would forget it outright or that she would lose it somewhere along the way. Mistake number one. She did neither but instead delivered it to it's intended recipient. Maybe I unconsciously believed that Candace's parents wouldn't let their five year old daughter use the phone. (is there an age of majority for the telephone?) Mistake number two. And lastly, mistake number three, I actually wondered aloud how much two five year old girls could have to say to each other?
I may as well have asked how many bricks does it take to fill in the Grand Canyon...They talked and talked and talked...and when they weren't talking, they were listening to each other breathe and snore and making fart noises. Isobel gave a rousing piano concerto (read Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) all the while holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. The poor child on the other end must have told her parents "There's something wrong with our phone, every time Isobel says listen to this, I can't hear anything."
I have noticed that Isobel seems to take the lead, even in a phone conversation. Now of course I can't hear the other end of the phone call but from our side Izzy was all boss.
"Now Candace, I told you I don't want to talk about that...(Isobel listening) No, I said I wasn't going to do that today. Candace, that's pretty stupid...See?...OK, fine, then."
The 'OK, fine then,' is usually an indication that Isobel is ending whatever activity she is currently involved in and moving on to something else that does not involve the person or thing (or minion) she is upset with. Santa got an 'OK, fine then' little over a month ago and he is still in exile on the floor of my car. But the conversation with Candace went on for another full fifteen minutes after Izzy dropped the OK, fine then...I was a little speechless.
Tonight, Candace called just as she said she would but Isobel was in the midst of making a fort with The Boy and wasn't interested in the phone...not right then anyway. But they managed to talk for a little and Izzy tried to talk while in the fort, which didn't go over well. There were tears and yelling and from the other room, it sounded to me as though she and Candace had had their first fight...maybe even broken up.
I asked her about it later.
"Did you and Candace have a fight?"
"Kinda," she said.
"Are you still friends now?" I asked.
"Yep, we are BFF's forever." she said.
"What about the fight?" I asked her.
"Friends do that. That's why we are for real sisters."
"Wow," I thought. "How very insightful."
"Tomorrow I'll go back to loving her and telling her what to do." said Isobel.
I think the pony just turned into a princess phone in her bedroom.
We were enjoying our usual Sunday night bedtime routine. I had just gotten up from my nap before work and was laying in bed with her. We were reading and tickling and giggling and farting and giggling and farting and giggling...well, you get the idea.
I'm not certain what it is about Sunday night bedtime's in particular, but after a good meal and a two hour nap, something happens to my insides...something evil takes up residence and surfaces whenever it damn well pleases.
I am a guy and a Dad, I revel in my own bodily functions and encourage such activity in my children. With that being said, even I thought I was rotten.
"I'm outta here." said Izzy as she got out of her bed.
"Wait," I said. "Where are you going? It's bedtime."
"You stink." she said.
I started laughing and I noticed she looked like she might start crying. Fellow parents will know what look I am talking about. Non parents-picture finding a full beer at a party and drinking it only discovering the cigarette butt as the last swallow passes your lips...that look.
"Don't cry, Honey. I'm not laughing at you."
"It's not that." she said.
"What's the matter, then?" I asked her.
"It really stinks in here now."
"What?"
"Just go, Dad." she said.
"What?" I asked.
"Please." she said.
Oh my god, she called me Dad. Not Daddy or Papa( my personal favourite) but Dad...how far off can it be before I hear; "I'm on the phone. Can you give me a little privacy, Dad. Said in that tone that we all know is a euphemism for asshole? Give me strength...my baby is growing up...
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