Izzy: "My hands are crispy."
Daddy: "Crispy?"
Izzy: "That's what Mummy said, they were crispy."
Daddy: "Let me feel. Ooh dry they look like old lady hands. We'll put some cream on when we get home."
Izzy: "Let me see. Now let me see your hand. My hands look all old like yours, Daddy."
Daddy: "What ?!!? I don't have old lady hands...do I?"
Izzy: (Making hands into claws) "Oooh, old lady hands coming to get you. Too late!"
One of my best friends growing up was Brian Schlegel. I have mentioned him here before I am fairly certain. I was a year or two older than him but we were a good team never the less. We were inseparable most of the time. He was the only friend my parents would allow to sleep over at our house and vice versa.
When we went on summer vacation and he was not allowed to go with us, I felt a little out of sorts to say the least. This was a friend who was like the brother I wanted...we were as close as two friends could be.
Isobel is developing such a friendship. Her friend Candace is fast becoming her Brian Schlegel... in a way. I was eight when I went on vacation without Brian Isobel is six now and we are going on vacation...Candace is not coming with us...
Isobel has been hounding us for the better part of a week now to go to Candace's house.
"You know that you get to see her everyday at school, right?" I asked her.
"It's not the same Daddy, you know that. I will just miss her while we are at the Mexico house. Can't she come with us?"
"No Baby, She can't come with us." I said. (Trying oh so very hard not make it sound like 'are you f *%#ing nuts? Can she come with us? Let me just get the extra money from my other pants. Are you kidding me with that shit?')
"I'll tell you what, you can maybe bring her back a nice souvenir from Mexico and tell her all about your trip when you get back. If there's time, I'll try and take you over for a short visit before we go...IF there is time."
"I'm going to write her a song!" Isobel said.
"Or you could write her a nice song." I concurred.
And off she went for a little while. I went back to doing whatever I was doing, thinking the Candace situation had resolved itself. In a manner of speaking it had.
"Can I phone Candace, Daddy?" Isobel asked.
"Sure, I guess." I replied.
She took the phone and disappeared upstairs. Not something that is verboten around here but it was an odd thing for her to do. She normally doesn't care who hears her conversation. After I heard her door close, I decided I would investigate. Not that I thought she was up to anything, I just wanted to know what was pressing so heavily on the six year old mind that she figured she needed privacy for it.
I went upstairs, not trying to be quiet but not thundering up stairs either. It should be noted (pun half intended) that there is a note tape to my daughter`s door that reads as follows; 'Noc on my don or yor not ouloud to com in my room.' Underneath was an illustration that looked like a faceless head on television. I listened outside the door for a moment a could hear her singing.
"Your love is like a drug on meeee, BABY!" she sang. (I know, lovely right?)
Now I was getting a little worried about her musical taste. There's been a lot of Justins and Codys and Selenas but this was pretty damned close to Roxy Music. It's not Gwar, I know but at least were back in an acceptable neighbourhood.
(...Saw her singing along with this song while it was playing on the TV the other day, some snotty pre -teen thing Cory or Cody...Not Brian Ferry...sigh)
I opened the door to compliment her on her singing and I was met with:
"Daddy! Can't you read?"
"I did read it." I said.
I wasn't lying, I just couldn't make a lot of sense of it. I got the my room bit but it was a little sketchy up to that point.
"I just have a hard time reading things when they are on green paper. Why don't you read it to me."
"It says 'Knock on my door or you're not allowed in my room'. So get out a
nd knock." she commanded."I'm the Dad, I don't need to knock. ( I thought about this and for a second actually tried to convince myself that as father, I would NEVER need to knock on my daughter's bedroom door...Ho-Ho!) wait yes I do. This is your room and if you want me to knock, then I'll go out and knock."
I did just that.
"Come in," she beamed.
"Whatcha doing?" I asked.
"Candace and I are singing songs together before I have to go to the Mexico house." Isobel said.
"Over the phone?" I asked "You're singing songs over the phone? What kind of songs?" I foolishly asked.
"Songs of remembering." Isobel said.
"Well of course they are." I said. (Which sounded an awfully lot like the song about your love being like a drug on me baby...)
" I'm going to miss Candace while I'm gone so I want to sing songs with her."
"OK," I said. "Kinda hard over the phone though, isn't it?"
"Can you close the door when you leave, please?"
Well if you're gonna be like that...I went out and left her alone. She clearly felt strongly enough about wanting her privacy and strongly enough about wanting to have a moment with her friend that I thought I'd better not spoil it for her. I went about my business, still trying to figure how they were singing on the phone and wondering if Candace's parents were enjoying the serenade of off key loudness as much as I was.
Ten minutes later, she came thundering downstairs without the phone and with a very excited look on her face.
"Aha!" she yelled.
"What?" I asked getting excited right along with her.
"I figured it out!" she said.
"Good, I'm glad!"
"Daddy, can I call Candace on speaker phone?"
"Oh Hell no." I said.
Ah yes friends, the time is drawing near when we will pack up the house and head off to the Mexico house. The excitement is palpable and we have been counting down the days...literally. I was informed a short while ago that there have been songs. The seven days left song and the six days left rap and the five days left metal song and so on. I'm not certain why but I seem to have missed out on these songs. Perhaps Mrs. narrator is only in a singing voice when I'm not around...though I find this highly suspect.
I asked Izzy about the songs when I picked her up from school last week.
"Hey, how come I never get to hear any of the vacation songs?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Mummy said you guys have been singing songs about the days left before we go to the Mexico house."
"Yep." she said.
"Can I hear one?"
"Nope."
"Come on," I pleaded. "Just one song, doesn't even have to be..."
"Six days! Damn six days!" she yelled. "Is that what you want to hear?"
"Sure, I guess." I said.
"It's not all I do, you know." she said.
"What's not all you do?" I asked.
"Swear words." she said.
"I know that's not all you do. If you feel like I want you to swear and it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me." I said.
"OK." she said quietly.
We were silent for what seemed like a long time but probably wasn't. She broke the silence but she mumbled something so quietly, I honestly had no idea what she said.
"Pardon?" I asked.
"I said, my damn throat is sore from yelling my lungs out on that vacation song."
The Next two posts will be from the sunny beaches and poolside splendour of the Mexico house OLE!
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