It's Pukka Up Time...The Big Clean Up...

We were getting ready for supper and Izzy came into the kitchen.
Izzy: "What's Mummy making for supper?"
Daddy: "Homemade Chinese food."
Izzy: "Really!?!?"
Daddy: "Yep. Go see for yourself."
Izzy: "Daddy, She's making everything I like; noodles and meat and my favourite, Chicken Pox!"


     Mrs. Narrator was away this weekend playing at the roller derby and Izzy, The Boy and I were left to our own devices. The first time for a while and it seemed greatly overdue. Off to the mall for dinner and then off to the thrift store for a little shopping. Izzy had five bucks from the Tooth Fairy that was burning a hole in her pocket so off we went.
    The Boy unfortunately is not so easily amused anymore and the toy grab bags at the Thrift store don't get his heart racing the way they used to. The new BBQ wrap..man...thing however, was more than enough to get him to agree to come along.
      I know The Boy isn't so thrilled with the Thrift store ( I think he figures it to be looking through other people's old crap...which it is) but Izzy and I love it and will almost always find something. This time being no exception.
     At the Mexico house, there is a mall (I know, right?) and in that mall is a McDonald's. They have had the same happy meal toys for as long as we have been going to Mexico. Pukka...Some sort of Japanese seizure inducing bit of fluff that is on at some ungodly hour here. I seem to remember being in the throws of post-op infection laying awake and writhing on the couch when it came on. I remember it made me feel worse. To my knowledge Isobel has never seen this program...unless she has been waking up at 4:30 on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons...I wouldn't put it past her.
      So there we are in the bowels of the thrift store when lo and behold, Isobel finds a Pukka alarm clock and a fairly big one at that. She had found what she wanted and we weren't even in the store ten minutes yet. It was $0.99 so I had my doubts that it would even work. For  less than a buck, I was willing to take the chance.
      We got home and I put batteries in it. It worked and she wanted to go to bed.
      "Maybe you could wait a little bit." I said.
      "Whew," she sighed. "I am so tired Daddy. I really need to go to bed."
      "Pickle, it's 6:30 and it's a weekend. You wouldn't normally go to bed for another two and a half hours."
      "Oh." she said. "Maybe I'll wait a bit."
      Bed time finally came but not without her asking every few minutes if she could go to bed. We set the alarm (not too early) and she went to sleep.
      You know those times when you're really excited for something that is going to happen the next day or worried that you might over sleep so you wake before your alarm? Izzy does now and she doesn't care for it.
      "My alarm clock doesn't work." she moaned.
      "You woke up before it," I said. "If you go back to bed for a bit, it'll go off."
      She didn't like that idea and decide she would try again the next day...a school day so in her mind there was a lot riding on it.We set and checked and rechecked and adjusted the time and off to bed she went, confident in the knowledge that she would no longer need to be awakened for school. No, now she was self sufficient.
      I got up the next morning and expected to have to wake her up when I normally would. She came down with her school clothes in hand and an odd expression on her face.
      "Morning Pick. Your alarm clock worked I see."
      "It worked alright. That thing scared the hell out of me."
      Rise and Shine.

     Izzy's cleaning obsession came and went and her room went back to it's usual state of chaos. I told her she had to clean her room and begrudgingly, she went. She came back down after a few short minutes, couldn't have even been ten and announced she was finished. This I had to see.
      She was not...in fact, she hadn't done anything but play with the cat.
      "Clean this mess up, for real." I said.
     She relented and set about to cleaning. This usually involves being distracted and generally playing more than actually cleaning but she was at least making an effort. After about a half an hour, she came downstairs and asked me to come back upstairs to check on her room.
    All was good but for a Barbie Corvette in front of her dresser.
      "What about that?" I asked.
      "What about what?"
      "The Barbie car," I said. "Why didn't you put away the Barbie car?"
      "Because it looks perfect where it is."
     I can't argue with that kind of logic...