She decided she was going to play spy after supper. Hiding under the table and hiding around the room and generally trying not to be seen as all good spies should do.
Daddy: "What is that rapping I hear, coming from under the table?"
Isobel: "Daddy, you're not supposed to play like that. The knocking is meant to distract you."
Daddy: "Oh, OK. Shall I just walk away and ignore you or sit here and act as though I haven't heard anything?"
Isobel: "Just sit there and ignore the knocking."
Daddy: " Gotcha."
Isobel: (knocking on the table) "Just ignore me now."
Daddy: "..."
Isobel: (A large sustained poooot followed by uncontrolled giggling)
Daddy: "It's going to be kinda hard to ignore that."
Isobel: (full on belly laughing now) "Poison gas."
I don't remember a lot about losing my teeth, I suppose few of us do. I remember seemingly going to bed with a full set of teeth and waking up the next day with only a couple of stragglers left. Of course it didn't really happen like this in fact, I do remember breaking a baby tooth while eating ice cream and peanuts. Anyway, I think I naturally assumed that once Izzy began to lose teeth they would all be out of her head and we'd be on to adult teeth in a month or two. HA!
She has a front tooth that has been in varying stage of looseness for as long as I can remember now. I seemed to get loose in a group of two or three other teeth yet in her face it remained.
She was at the dentist three weeks ago and the nice hygienist lady said 'That tooth needs to come out. If it doesn't come out in a month or so, we'll have to go in and pull it out. The new tooth is already lining up behind it.' It was true, Izzy looked a little like a great white shark. Two rows of teeth...well one double tooth anyway.
So it became a steady stream of harassment and haranguing her to 'wiggle that damned tooth.' But it wouldn't give up. It was in for the long haul.
"It'll come out when it's ready." said Mrs. Narrator, as she had with all of Izzy's other teeth.
Izzy had pulled all of her other teeth, just knuckled down and popped 'em out. But this one, the bane of my child's smile would have no freedom. Must have been afraid of the light, I thought.
Then I started thinking maybe my expectations were just unrealistic. Maybe I am putting too much pressure on the child's teeth to perform.
"I'm starting to think that tooth will never come out." said Mrs. Narrator about a week ago.
I started to think it would never leave her head and I had visions of her walking around with two rows of permanent. A cool concept but likely not one to win her any popularity contests.
"Don't play with Isobel, she has two sets of teeth!" Teenaged girls can be so cruel.
It had gotten to the point where Isobel even asked me to pull it out a couple of times. Maybe she sensed impending mockery or maybe she was just sick of it being wiggly in her mouth and wanted to eat an apple again without discomfort.
Today was the deadline (really how strict of a deadline do they give a tooth that is loose anyway?) and funny thing is, the tooth virtually came out on its own.
"Izzy, that tooth is barely holding on anymore." said Mrs. Narrator. (Incidentally, Mrs. Narrator is teeth and fevers I am blood and most other bodily fluids...excepting possibly vomit but I believe I have discussed the great vomit jog of a few years ago already.)"Oh Pick, that thing just needs a quick pop and it's out. Come into the bathroom and give 'er a yank."
Not a tear was shed, though a fair amount of blood came out. On her cheeks and lips and maybe even a little on her nose and with a stout jerk the tooth that wouldn't budge, did just that.
"Yay! The tooth is gone, the tooth is gone!" I said.
"Finally!" Izzy said.
"You know what the best part about losing that tooth is?" I asked her.
"What?" she replied.
"Say sassafras."
"Say what?"
"Sassafras." I said.
"What does it mean?" she asked. Only my kid.
"Just say it."
"Thathafrath...thathafrath...THATHAFRATH!"
We had to take some roller derby type stuff out to Mrs. Narrator last week and we had a rare chance to talk. Just to shoot the breeze Izzy and me. Like we used to when I wasn't working and I stayed home with her all day.
"Daddy!" she said excitedly.
"Yep?"
"We had a new teacher today!"
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "A substitute teacher or was it another student teacher?"
"Ummm..not really either one."
"Oh?'
"No," she began. "Mrs. Shaw had to go to the library to sign some papers and so this teacher came and taught us for a while."
"Oh, I see." I said.
"Yeah, she came to teach us with her guitar."
"Oh yeah?" I asked a little intrigued at a guitar playing teacher.
"Yeah," she said. "She came with her guitar and singed."
"Sung." I corrected her.
"Yeah, she came with her guitar and singed some sungs. That's what I said."
I drove on figuring explaining any further wouldn't do me any good anyway.
It was quiet for a while and then the following conversation took place. I must state for the record that I cast no aspersions on my six year old daughter's character and contrary to popular belief, I am not old.
"Daddy," she asked. "Why are there no cocks in Ayr?"
"Excuse me?" I asked. If I had been drinking something it would have been covering the windshield along with a generous portion of spit at that particular moment.
"Why are there no cocks in Ayr?" she repeated.
"What?" I repeated. I couldn't believe my ears. I wouldn't believe my ears.
"Cocks, why are there no cocks in Ayr?"
"Isobel," I said, the anger beginning to rise in my voice. "What in the hell are you saying?"
"Daddy, turn the radio down." she said. I did so.
"What did you say?" I asked her again.
She sighed, this was now the forth time she had asked me this question.
"Why are there no COPS in Ayr?"
"Oh," I said. "It's because we don't have a police station. We just have cops that patrol through town once in a while."
"Oh," she said. "I wondered why I didn't see them."
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