The End of Innocence-almost...Izzy's boxing lesson...

She had been outside playing...traveller. I guess that is the best way to describe it. She had a rolling Barbie suitcase and rather large gift bag filled with her precious belongings. She would go between my car and Mrs. narrator's. Moving the suitcase and bag each time. And each time she would walk down to the garage to see me before she changed cars.

Isobel: "Daddy?"

Daddy: "What's up Pick?"

Isobel: "I just came to say good-bye. I'm off to L.A."

Daddy: "L.A.? Well that's quite a trip."

Isobel: "It's for my work. I have to teach some yoga."

Daddy: "Yoga? Well, I'm surprised you're not going to San Francisco too."

Isobel: "No." (in that tone that says you are the stupidest man alive.)

Daddy: (she had gone out and come back in about five minutes later) "Back so soon?"

Isobel: "L.A. was too much."

Daddy: "Too much what?"

Isobel: "Daddy. Should I go to San Francisco?"

Daddy: "I would. Lots of yoga there."

Isobel: "O.K!"

Daddy: "What's the matter Pick?" (she had gone out and come right back in)

Isobel: "Lost my luggage."

Daddy: "That happened to me once. I was coming back from Texas."

Isobel: " Daddy, I'm not playing. I can't find my damn bag. I think Mummy drove away with it."

It's funny that the tag line for this blog is about Izzy and her Easter candy. Easter has come and gone and with it a tiny bit of childhood has died away. The Boy has stopped believing in the Easter Bunny.

I don't remember when I found out that The big rabbit wasn't for real and it didn't matter because the chocolate streams kept on flowing steadily at Easter time, virtually until I left home. And even a little after that if memory serves. He wanted to keep believing but He's not a stupid kid but logic won out.

How does a rabbit get into your house with an ass load of chocolate and crap in the first place? And for that matter (and this is me talking, not The Boy) have you ever seen a rabbit for real? They are a rodent. They shit little round pellets nearly as often as they move. If Bugs was coming into your house to drop off baskets full of goodies for the good boys and girls, you can be damn sure there would be a trail of raisinettes left for Mummy and Daddy to sweep up. OK, but enough about Rabbit crap.

I think got the message a while ago that the best bits of being a kid are the fantasies, the belief in the magic. The Jolly old Elf and Bunnies and Fairies of all sorts but now I`m not so sure. I`m starting to think that it might be finding out the truth. Not because the truth blows away the illusions and innocence of childhood but because it becomes a point where your parents think you've become old enough to deal with the truth. and not spoil the surprise for your younger siblings.

Izzy has asked me on occasion about the truth of matters. "Is Santa real?" or "Is the Easter Bunny real?" and my answer is always the same. "What do you think?" or "What do

you want to believe?"

But time goes on and everyone grows and those beliefs fall away. Or do they? I remember for two or three years running, I went to my Friend Caroline's house to colour Easter eggs with her family. She moved out shortly Easter when we were seventeen. I was disappointed the next Easter because I wouldn't get to colour the eggs.

Of course I'm not saying that I believe in the mystical non- defecating milk chocolate laden rodent now any more than I did then but as we continue to perpetuate them to our children, aren't we really saying it is something we believe in after all? Even if it's temporary? This isn't a discourse on human behaviour just my own musings.

Isobel made it abundantly clear that she does NOT believe in the Tooth Fairy.

"I believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny. But The Tooth Fairy? Come on."

"What about the movie?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's just a guy in wings." she replied. "You guys give me a quarter if teeth come out, right?"

"What do you think?" I asked. She looked at The Boy and he shrugged. I was glad he let her hang.

"It's you and Mummy."

The Tooth fairy was the first to go for The Boy too. Then came the Easter Bunny. Santa is the only one left and his days are numbered. The Boy isn't taking any chances just yet but he has noticed that we haven't got a chimney...How much faith can you put in a fat man in a red suit when you spend most of your free time stealing cars and beating people with a spiked baseball bat? The Easter Bunny now lives on Saints Row...

I am a father and as such it is my right to act like a complete schmuck. To that end, Isobel was in the toy room and as I walked by, I stopped and assumed an old school boxing pose. You know what I mean, like a bare knuckle boxer would pose in a fight poster.

"What the heck is that?" she asked.

"The sweet science." I said.

"A science what now?" she asked.

"Boxing," I said. "Fighting."

"Oh, you want to fight?" she asked.

I stood there, silent re-emphasizing my bare knuckle pose.

"Oh it's ON!" she hollered.

We squared up and she immediately put her hands up.

"You might not want to put your hands in front of your face, Pick."

She came around behind me and walloped me in the posterior.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked.

"Why?" she asked.

"What am I really good at?" I asked her.

"Playing bagpipes." she replied.

"The other thing," I said. "Think where you are punching me."

"Oh jesus," she exclaimed. "I give up!"