Olympic Hopeful...

Back in February, during the height of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics, Isobel was watching the athletes on television during one of the Canadian medal presentations. Intrigued, she told me "she was good at running and soccer and she was going to win as many medals as her hands and neck could hold."

Last night Isobel got the privilege of holding an Olympic medal - Joan McCusker's curling gold, won in Nagano, Japan in 1998 with Sandra Schmirler skipping "our girls" on to glory. "It's heavy," she remarked as I snapped her photograph to capture the "golden moment." (McCusker explained that gold would be too soft on its own, and so they use a bronze core and then plate the medals with gold).

Who knows? Maybe getting to hold a medal will be inspirational for Isobel and help her achieve a youthful Olympic dream.

Fifteen Cents and Counting...

This evening Isobel came up to me with her little hand brimming with pennies. She plopped them on the brown wooden desk beside me.

"What's that for?" I ask.

She looks at me and smiles and says, "It's so you can pay ALL the bills and still have enough money to take me to McDonald's." And then she adds, "I have more money for Johnny, too."

Later I count the pennies in the pile she so generously offered me. Fifteen cents. When I used to eat at McDonald's Restaurant as a youngster in Surrey, B. C., (back in the early 1970's), regular hamburgers WERE two bits a piece. But that was then and this is now.... She'll need to save a few more pennies before she can afford a chicken nugget Happy Meal... (and don't forget the toy!)

At any rate, "I'm lovin' it!" ... and Isobel is, too!

It Would Be Wonderful...

Somehow I DON'T think it would be wonderful...

BUT Isobel said to me today "It would be wonderful if I could run through the sprinkler today!"

I could hardly believe my ears...

So I said, "Isobel,look out the window. What is that white stuff you see?"

"Snow," she replies.

I try to explain that it is far too cold (it was -22 C. overnight) to hook up the sprinkler, let alone run through it.

She still thinks it would be fun and isn't happy that I am telling her "No."

So then she says, "Why don't you ask Johnny. He's the one who is in charge of the sprinkler."

And so, just to please her, I mike phoned Johnny and explained what Isobel wanted.

His response? "Maybe Monday, Isobel. Maybe Monday!"

... I'm thinking maybe we can pencil it in for a Monday in mid-June when, it really WOULD be wonderful!

Be Sure You Have Your Reading Glasses...

Yesterday Isobel got a parcel from Amazon.co.uk containing two books intended to be her Easter surprise from her Scottish Granny. One book was a re-telling of Rapunzel and the other was the old favourite, Sleeping Beauty. Although I had already read both books to her, Isobel went to John last night and asked him to read them to her.

"I can't," was his response. "I don't have my glasses."

And so she was put off ... but only for a while...

This morning, before John left for work, he was sitting on the couch drinking his morning coffee.

Isobel got her Sleeping Beauty book and climbed up onto his lap. "Got your glasses?," she asked. And then answering her own question, she reached out and took John's reading glasses from the pocket of his shirt, opened the lid of the plastic container and handed them to him.

We caught each other's eye and laughed. And, with a smile, Isobel got an abridged version of Sleeping Beauty before breakfast!

So much for excuses!

The Christmas Illness....

Isobel was talking to her Scottish Granny on the telephone. She was trying to tell her that Alisdair was sick with tonsillitis but she got a bit mixed up.

It came out like this -- "Alisdair has TINSEL-litis."

I had to smile... after she had hung up the phone I wondered what the symptoms of "TINSEL-litis" would be. Perhaps a sufferer would have little pieces of silver tinsel sticking out of their mouth? And, I imagine that people would only catch TINSEL-litis around the Christmas holiday season.

Thankfully the boy is much better now - still taking his medication but he's definitely on the mend. And as Martha Stewart would say ... "That's a good thing!"

"There is Something Wrong..."

We'd just come home from the doctor's office where big brother had been diagnosed with tonsillitis. And they were fighting -- AGAIN.

Isobel came to me and told me, "There is sump-ing wrong with Alisdair."

"Yes," I know, I told her. "The doctor said he has tonsillitis and that means he has a sore throat."

"No," she says, "Not that. Sump-ing else."

And then it pops out of her mouth.

"It's his ATTITUDE" (This time pointing at her head.)

Laughter followed... but she DOES have a point. Maybe she'll be a psychologist when she's grown!

Number Eight

"Mum, do you remember when I went on a trip?," my daughter asks.

It was only this past weekend that we travelled to Moose Jaw to attend my Aunt's funeral. So I answer that, "Yes, I do remember our trip."

Then Isobel says "Let's go back to 'Number Eight.'"

For a moment I can't figure out what she is talking about. And then it dawns on me. We stayed in the Super 8 Hotel. She wants to go back there and push the buttons for the elevator and eat in the breakfast bar. She cried when we checked out. Such a big adventure for a 4-year old girl.

Later, I laugh and ask her where she'd like to go.

"To the Number One," Isobel replies.

She should be in charge of the corporation's advertising portfolio.

Gives a whole new meaning to the old sayings, "Behind the 8-Ball" or "Eight is enough." Now we stay at "Number Eight," too!

A Child's Perspective on Ice Fishing...

We took the "scenic route" home from the funeral on Sunday afternoon. At Saskatchewan Landing we were surprised to see several groups of fishermen out on the ice with their gear. Since John thought the kids would enjoy seeing this, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road so they could have a better look.

As he pointed out the people and the vehicles on the ice below us, Isobel looked very surprised and then gave her take on it all.

It only took two words -- "That's NUTS!"

John told her, "That's right Isobel. It IS nuts!"

I couldn't have agreed more and thought to myself that I hoped none of the folk would fall through the ice that Sunday afternoon - a warm and sunny day in March.

"I Can't See the Box"

Isobel insisted on going to the viewing at the funeral home because she "wanted to see the box.' (Coffin). She said she wanted to know if it was "square, rectangular or pink."

She burst into tears in the parking lot of the funeral home saying, "It's kind of sad that Grandpa's sister died." We tried to comfort her and Grandpa made the mistake of telling her that "it was okay because she was OLD." That made the situation worse because Isobel thinks, since John and I both have grey hair, that we are OLD.

Isobel then responded, "I am scared someone else is going to die."

At that point I put her in the car and began to drive to the restaurant we'd agreed to go to for lunch. On the way, Isobel tells me, "Poor Auntie Ellen, she only got one visit from me." (Isobel remembers our day trip to Central Butte last September with Grandpa and Grandma). I took a deep breath and said to her, "Well, maybe someday, when you get to heaven, you will be able to visit with Auntie Ellen again."

Again, more tears welled up. And then a little voice answered from the backseat, "But I don't want to have to die to get there."

None of us do, my dear girl.... none of us do.

She fell asleep on John's lap during the actual funeral but was wide awake and intent on seeing everything at the cemetery. At one point, during the commital service she began talking to John. He tried to shush her and she said, "But Johnny.... I can't see the box!" And so he dutifully moved a few feet to the right so that Isobel could have a better view of the proceedings.

It's been an educational week for a small girl...

Bereavement ... From a Child's Perspective

My Aunt Ellen died on Saturday, February 27. She was 84 and had been in a care home for some time, but there is still grief and pain attached to her departure.

The next day I was trying to explain to Isobel that Grandpa was sad because his sister had died. And that she should tell him she was sorry about it and be extra kind to him.

After my explanation she smiled at me and said, "But he still has ME to RELAX with!"

A comfort, indeed.

Award Winning Daddies...

The other day Isobel told me:

"Daddy Johnny is the bestest Dad in the whole world." And then she added, "And Daddy Gordon is a good yeller."

Truth, spoken from the mouth of a 4-year old babe.