Daddy: "So how was the Dr?"
Isobel :"Good. She said I was OK."
Daddy: "She doesn't know you too well then, does she?"
Isobel: "Ummm...I don't know. I think I saw her before."
Daddy: "Never mind.What happened at the Dr?"
Isobel: "She checked me out and said everything was OK."
Daddy: "Well, that's good news."
Isobel: "Yep and then I got a needle in both arms."
Daddy: "Oh yeah?"
Isobel: "And I had to pee in a cup!"
Daddy: "I hope nobody was drinking out of it."
Isobel: "Nope, Mummy was holding it."
I often fear that I will run out of things to write in this column or that it will become stale or repetitive. I mean OK, the subject matter is limited to within its own structure but my biggest worry is that it might become boring and all of you will wander away. I am almost always presented with the genuineness and genuine weirdness that is my child at these times...
She came home with another paper made school project. Not quite as interesting looking as a Christmas WTF but just as funny. It is a face, more or less, and from the length of the hair I can only assume it is my daughter. Now atop this glowing pink face is a lovely red triangle (Maybe a hat or some type of accoutrement of an Eldritch horror...in bright red lipstick) Now festooned to the Eldritch headdress is a white placard of sorts. And it reads;
"My New Yers Rrevolo is eoine elow in the daerk Bolline with my fomaley. And keeping my Room"
Now, unfamiliar as I may be with nameless unimaginable Eldritch things I can only hazard a guess that for New Year, Isobel is hoping for some type of activity involving basic seamanship and her friend Eoin...and keeping her room of course, even the unnameable ones insist on neatening up one's area.
It goes on to say that "My ReslaNooshin For scool is: to not tack gut Lode wen the techer is tackine."
I can't be certain what types of things are being taught at Ayr Public but at bed time tonight Isobel asked, after choosing her clothes for tomorrow of course, if I might stay with her a moment and cast a thought toward the Malevolent Elder gods of Unspeakable, Relentless horror from the Depths of the Void Betwixt the Stars...so it's to be no cheese before bed from now on.
We will be heading south soon and, as you all know, Izzy is losing her mind to get there. I think The Boy is trying to figure out how he can get the computer from our living room to the living room of the Mexico house. Izzy has been more productive, however. Not only has she packed a suitcase full of clothing she hasn't worn in two years, she has made a list of all the important things she needs to take. Here is the abridged list; (and the translation as near as I can figure.) Core On (Carry on)
Hedfons (Head phones) IPad (We do not own an IPad but thumbs upfor wishful thinking)
IPone (In The Boy's world, this means something entirely different)
Teen and Sara ( Is there someone else coming on vacation with us?)
Neke Pillows becho (I am open to suggestions)
Priels (I think this is a Gaelic word)
ernele/izzy (My daughter and her secret identity...musn't forget to pack either of them)
Loptop (She has been watching a lot of movies about Elizabeth the first)
Pospors( I think this has something to do with make-up)
Glazz izz ( If you say this with a Glaswegian accent, you'll get it)
coiring/book (Must be for the pool)
Croons (well...ummm)
Doolrv7t (Vacation WTF)
Cho izzys chopsik ( I guess we're getting take out)
Mrs. Narrator (read Empress of list making) apparently is not readying things quickly enough and Isobel has made a list for the parent as well;
Brush ( a brush)
Cumb ( Not a brush)
Shampoo/cadshint (The second word is a little too close to 'cat shit' for my liking and will be going in Mrs. Narrator's suitcase.)
Levin canis niners pra (for Passover... or the super bowl, whichever comes first)
Broldricale/cluus (just rolls off the tongue, no?)
Toothpast/toothbreerash ( for dental hygiene in another dimension)
7hovin crem (crem for hovin your 7 I should think that one was pretty obvious)
Bolware ( I would describe this but modesty prevents me)
Bode loshn (OK, this is an easy one)
Olof voq (for Viking night)
Voi/erer
iban/erer
cumr/erer (I haven't the slightest fucking idea but there were three of them so I didn't dare leave them off.
In the event that Isobel somehow manages to get these lists actually packed, please send all donations to the Zawada-Baker family Vacation Rescue Fund...OLE!
I suppose we all regress from time to time, stepping back to the storied past and clinging to warm and fresh clean linen smelling security. I think kids go through it a lot. I can remember The Boy going through it with a degree of regularity. May have been the nature of the ADD or may have just been his way of growing up, or both. At any rate, Izzy seems to be well on her way back down the emotional ladder this week.
I think it began a couple of weeks ago when the threat of a freakish winter thunderstorm was being broadcast on the T.V. every half hour or so. It's not to say that she afraid of thunderstorms, she is not but maybe the possibility of one happening in the dead of winter spun her head a little. That night she wanted to sleep with us and did. For several nights thereafter...in fact, most nights thereafter, she has either demanded, begged, whined, cried, or pissed and moaned to sleep in our bed. Most nights she did. And nobody but her got to sleep. Now I don't have a great deal of problem with her sleeping in our bed, it's kind of the parenty thing to do. But it's not that she is sleeping with us out of fear anymore, it's that is is becoming a routine. And for that, she is very much her father's daughter. A lover of routine. To my absolute dismay however, she is also very much her mother's child...a sleep farter. Say good night Gracie.
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