(Originally written, oh, Sunday evening...)Hey guys!
A'ight, so, this week's Izzo story begins, where? The playground, again? Our living room, circa 25 minutes ago? In the car, headed to or from Tatik's house?
I know! Start in the cyberworld, or, specifically, here -- http://tyronedraws.blogspot.com/ . And then come back to this quick (really, I promise) latest series of Izzo stories. But, yeah, that first stop's a new blog belonging to Izzo's always-correctly-ID'd uncle "Ty!" the (starving) artist, who really doesn't realize how amazing he is.
A'ight, so, this week's Izzo story begins, where? The playground, again? Our living room, circa 25 minutes ago? In the car, headed to or from Tatik's house?
I know! Start in the cyberworld, or, specifically, here -- http://tyronedraws.blogspot.com/ . And then come back to this quick (really, I promise) latest series of Izzo stories. But, yeah, that first stop's a new blog belonging to Izzo's always-correctly-ID'd uncle "Ty!" the (starving) artist, who really doesn't realize how amazing he is.
(my brother is dope)Speaking of artists, here's Hamlet's contibution to this update: "She seemed to like Haro."
Haro is a friend of ours from The Scene; he's a spectacular drummer, he's a great painter and now he's putting together movies, so he came over this afternoon to borrow Hamlet and my faces for his latest video endeavor. Izzo was 90-percent show-off, 10-percent shy girl, but immediately a fan of his. He's got this great Sideshow Bob hair that he had tied back into a poofy pony tail, and so he'd shake that at her every now and then and she'd laugh to herself, get a big kick out of it. At our request, she also played him some guitar and some drums, in addition to the natural boogeying 'round the place that would've happened whether or not we'd had company. She also sprinted back and forth to her bedroom 132 times for no reason other than to perhaps check out her own big smile in the big mirror before heading back to refuel ...
Anyway, she was very conscious of the visitor, and she was very set on, well, seeming cool in front of him. We know this, because Izzo, who'd been all light and jollyness and high happy fives for the first 98 percent of Haro's stay, turned dark and despondent in the matter of a single second when Hamlet admonished her for approaching Haro's gear. It wasn't a violent reproach, it wasn't even loud or especially stern, it was a typically stated "Don't do that," but this time it was "Don't touch Haro's tripod!" and it happened, OH MY GAWD, in front of HARO!
Izzo immediately retreated to the corner of the room, chin to her chest, frown dripping downward, totally ashen, defeated and crushed.
I got her to come my way, and she buried her head in my chest, but otherwise remained unrespondent to my overtures asking her to consider perking up. She just wrapped her arms around me and refused to move. When I finally was able to pull her away from me, Izzo refused to look in Haro's direction -- she was beyond embarrassed, it seemed, she was tangibly humiliated -- and soon, she refused TO LOOK. Revisiting the tactic she'd adopted, we think, to deal with freaky flying creatures buzzing around a couple weeks back. She closed her eyes and refused to open them, refused, simply, to look. As if to say: I'm just not dealing with this. See no evil ...
When Haro left, I put her in her stroller so we could walk to the park, because I figured THAT would cheer her up if anything would and especially because it was late Sunday afternoon, meaning we had a better shot, perhaps, than any other time of the week at seeing "Naty! Naty! Naty!" She and I both have been waiting a week, shoot, two weeks for this ... and, of course, pouting, distraught and very, very tired Izzo fell asleep before we got past South Street, and so we turned right around and now I'm writing this and, after fighting it all afternoon, she's sleeping.
Hopefully she'll have forgotten all about this when she wakes up. I wonder, however, when, or if, she'll forget about "Naty! Naty! Naty!"
"Naty! Naty! Naty!" is Izzo's little girlfriend from the park. She's about a month younger than Izzo, but she's a little bigger, and seems significantly stronger and significantly much less cautious. That, in itself, isn't remarkable. Half of the kids there are like this. The other half aren't. The way I figure it, Izzo kinda falls smack-dab in the middle on the playground patrolling ladder. But what is significant about "Naty! Naty! Naty!" is how she and Izzo so immediately bonded. They worked on "jumping" (really, lifting themselves onto the balls of their feet without actually getting airborne, over and over again) together atop one of the platforms the first time, and then, when we saw them again the following time, about a week, later, I was shocked when Izzo announced, "Naty! Naty! Naty!" She remembered the little girl -- and the little girl's name -- before I did.
And then, on that occassion, the two little girls played happily together for the next hour. And I do mean together ... everywhere Naty went, Izzo wanted to go, following her bravely up the big platform, where bigger kids were zooming by and "Naty! Naty! Naty!" was having no problem whatsoever with the tube that poked out of the side of the tower and led down about five steps back to where the moms and Izzo were watching her. Every time "Naty! Naty! Naty!" would escape Izzo's field of vision, my daughter would shout -- you guessed it -- "Naty! Naty! Naty!"
And "Naty! Naty! Naty!" reciprocated the love, because every time Izzo started to wander off to another subregion of the wonderful playground, "Naty! Naty! Naty!" would go, "Bell! Bell!"
And so the two little girls followed each other around the park, very much in tune and appreciative of what the other one was doing. Really wickedly enjoying each other's company. And it was cool.
Cool, to me, because Izzo's never forged any sort of connection like that with any other kid. I sometimes try to encourage it, I sometimes try to insist on it, but it never really happens at this age. Which is why it also was cool, it seemed, to "Naty! Naty! Naty!"'s mom, Yvonne, because she'd been telling me before how "Naty! Naty! Naty!" -- real name, Natalia, by the way -- didn't ever really play WITH any of the many kids at her daycare, but alongside them, that right-for-that-age parallel playin', as they call it.
But despite all that, there was Bell and Naty, having a grand time TOGETHER.
"Naty! Naty! Naty!" also was joined at the park by her daddy, Luke, and her little sister, 3-month-old Kaya, and it was fun getting to know them all a little on those two spontaneous, unplanned visits. But I'm shy, and so I didn't venture a request for a phone number. I also didn't realize how much Izzo would've appreciated me doing so. Boy, how I regret that now.
Several times a day for the past two weeks -- whenever I mention the playground, or whenever we as much as point ourselves in the direction of the park, whenever Izzo sees an image of a kid sort of in "Naty! Naty! Naty!"'s image, basically whenever -- Izzo's launched into the most-voiced refrain of the year so far. You guessed it: "Naty! Naty? Naty!?"
Every time we've managed to get to the park since then, the first thing Izzo's done is scan the premesis for "Naty! Naty! Naty!" and then, when she realizes we've missed her again, she looks at me so wistfully, without quite understanding, "Naty... come?" "Naty ... where." "Naty ... see?" "No, no, sorry, Izzo, Naty's not here today. Maybe next time though, maybe next time." That seems to buoy Izzo a bit, the prospect of next time, 'cause she goes, "Naty come." And then we get on with swinging, her new favorite thing. But I wonder, you know, for how much longer Izzo will go on pining for this other kid. I wonder if when we finally do show up at the park at the same time again, if Izzo will remember the girl, and/or how much she's been looking forward to seeing her again. And I wonder, too, of course, if "Naty! Naty! Naty!" will remember "Bell! Bell!"
And, shoot, I cleared my Sunday afternoon schedule so that we could spend a big chunk of time at the park around the time we'd seen Naty there before, but Izzo -- maybe because she was excited about this? -- refused even to consider naptime until it was time to go try to hook up with her "Naty! Naty! Naty!" again, and then she tumbled hard into her delayed nanik-nanik.
Sigh.
Haro is a friend of ours from The Scene; he's a spectacular drummer, he's a great painter and now he's putting together movies, so he came over this afternoon to borrow Hamlet and my faces for his latest video endeavor. Izzo was 90-percent show-off, 10-percent shy girl, but immediately a fan of his. He's got this great Sideshow Bob hair that he had tied back into a poofy pony tail, and so he'd shake that at her every now and then and she'd laugh to herself, get a big kick out of it. At our request, she also played him some guitar and some drums, in addition to the natural boogeying 'round the place that would've happened whether or not we'd had company. She also sprinted back and forth to her bedroom 132 times for no reason other than to perhaps check out her own big smile in the big mirror before heading back to refuel ...
Anyway, she was very conscious of the visitor, and she was very set on, well, seeming cool in front of him. We know this, because Izzo, who'd been all light and jollyness and high happy fives for the first 98 percent of Haro's stay, turned dark and despondent in the matter of a single second when Hamlet admonished her for approaching Haro's gear. It wasn't a violent reproach, it wasn't even loud or especially stern, it was a typically stated "Don't do that," but this time it was "Don't touch Haro's tripod!" and it happened, OH MY GAWD, in front of HARO!
Izzo immediately retreated to the corner of the room, chin to her chest, frown dripping downward, totally ashen, defeated and crushed.
I got her to come my way, and she buried her head in my chest, but otherwise remained unrespondent to my overtures asking her to consider perking up. She just wrapped her arms around me and refused to move. When I finally was able to pull her away from me, Izzo refused to look in Haro's direction -- she was beyond embarrassed, it seemed, she was tangibly humiliated -- and soon, she refused TO LOOK. Revisiting the tactic she'd adopted, we think, to deal with freaky flying creatures buzzing around a couple weeks back. She closed her eyes and refused to open them, refused, simply, to look. As if to say: I'm just not dealing with this. See no evil ...
When Haro left, I put her in her stroller so we could walk to the park, because I figured THAT would cheer her up if anything would and especially because it was late Sunday afternoon, meaning we had a better shot, perhaps, than any other time of the week at seeing "Naty! Naty! Naty!" She and I both have been waiting a week, shoot, two weeks for this ... and, of course, pouting, distraught and very, very tired Izzo fell asleep before we got past South Street, and so we turned right around and now I'm writing this and, after fighting it all afternoon, she's sleeping.
Hopefully she'll have forgotten all about this when she wakes up. I wonder, however, when, or if, she'll forget about "Naty! Naty! Naty!"
"Naty! Naty! Naty!" is Izzo's little girlfriend from the park. She's about a month younger than Izzo, but she's a little bigger, and seems significantly stronger and significantly much less cautious. That, in itself, isn't remarkable. Half of the kids there are like this. The other half aren't. The way I figure it, Izzo kinda falls smack-dab in the middle on the playground patrolling ladder. But what is significant about "Naty! Naty! Naty!" is how she and Izzo so immediately bonded. They worked on "jumping" (really, lifting themselves onto the balls of their feet without actually getting airborne, over and over again) together atop one of the platforms the first time, and then, when we saw them again the following time, about a week, later, I was shocked when Izzo announced, "Naty! Naty! Naty!" She remembered the little girl -- and the little girl's name -- before I did.
And then, on that occassion, the two little girls played happily together for the next hour. And I do mean together ... everywhere Naty went, Izzo wanted to go, following her bravely up the big platform, where bigger kids were zooming by and "Naty! Naty! Naty!" was having no problem whatsoever with the tube that poked out of the side of the tower and led down about five steps back to where the moms and Izzo were watching her. Every time "Naty! Naty! Naty!" would escape Izzo's field of vision, my daughter would shout -- you guessed it -- "Naty! Naty! Naty!"
And "Naty! Naty! Naty!" reciprocated the love, because every time Izzo started to wander off to another subregion of the wonderful playground, "Naty! Naty! Naty!" would go, "Bell! Bell!"
And so the two little girls followed each other around the park, very much in tune and appreciative of what the other one was doing. Really wickedly enjoying each other's company. And it was cool.
Cool, to me, because Izzo's never forged any sort of connection like that with any other kid. I sometimes try to encourage it, I sometimes try to insist on it, but it never really happens at this age. Which is why it also was cool, it seemed, to "Naty! Naty! Naty!"'s mom, Yvonne, because she'd been telling me before how "Naty! Naty! Naty!" -- real name, Natalia, by the way -- didn't ever really play WITH any of the many kids at her daycare, but alongside them, that right-for-that-age parallel playin', as they call it.
But despite all that, there was Bell and Naty, having a grand time TOGETHER.
"Naty! Naty! Naty!" also was joined at the park by her daddy, Luke, and her little sister, 3-month-old Kaya, and it was fun getting to know them all a little on those two spontaneous, unplanned visits. But I'm shy, and so I didn't venture a request for a phone number. I also didn't realize how much Izzo would've appreciated me doing so. Boy, how I regret that now.
Several times a day for the past two weeks -- whenever I mention the playground, or whenever we as much as point ourselves in the direction of the park, whenever Izzo sees an image of a kid sort of in "Naty! Naty! Naty!"'s image, basically whenever -- Izzo's launched into the most-voiced refrain of the year so far. You guessed it: "Naty! Naty? Naty!?"
Every time we've managed to get to the park since then, the first thing Izzo's done is scan the premesis for "Naty! Naty! Naty!" and then, when she realizes we've missed her again, she looks at me so wistfully, without quite understanding, "Naty... come?" "Naty ... where." "Naty ... see?" "No, no, sorry, Izzo, Naty's not here today. Maybe next time though, maybe next time." That seems to buoy Izzo a bit, the prospect of next time, 'cause she goes, "Naty come." And then we get on with swinging, her new favorite thing. But I wonder, you know, for how much longer Izzo will go on pining for this other kid. I wonder if when we finally do show up at the park at the same time again, if Izzo will remember the girl, and/or how much she's been looking forward to seeing her again. And I wonder, too, of course, if "Naty! Naty! Naty!" will remember "Bell! Bell!"
And, shoot, I cleared my Sunday afternoon schedule so that we could spend a big chunk of time at the park around the time we'd seen Naty there before, but Izzo -- maybe because she was excited about this? -- refused even to consider naptime until it was time to go try to hook up with her "Naty! Naty! Naty!" again, and then she tumbled hard into her delayed nanik-nanik.
Sigh.
Hey, here's an aside: I'm now referred to half the time as "Momomom," half the time as "Mommy."
Hey, here's another aside: Izzo is a big fan of a singer called Sia. (www.siamusic.net) Australian soul-indie songwriting chick who's famous here for her song that closed the HBO series "Six Feet Under," and for her recognizable CD cover that was visibly for sale for the past year at Starbucks everywhere. Hamlet started listening first, actually, before sharing her songs with me, and now, well, Izzo loves crawling up into her carseat in my car because I keep the CD in there for her, and she knows the songs, kinda, sometimes humming along, sometimes sort of singing along and always tapping her little legs to the ballady beats. And ALWAYS, after EACH and EVERY song finishes, going, "Again! Again! More! More! Please?" And then growing this gigantic smile each time the next song starts again.
... re-reading all that above, fam and friends, I'm struck, I guess, by one overarching observation: Izzo is a sensitive, sensitive creature -- who is waking up. Just in time for a big hug from Mommy/Momomom and her Daddy, who, too, is sensitive, and feeling pretty badly that he managed to inadvertently hurt his daughter's substantial feelings earlier. Sigh.
We'll all be OK, though, promise.
But please do think good thoughts for the reunification of "Naty! Naty! Naty!" and "Bell! Bell!"
Lots and lots and lots of love.
Us
Quick postscript: Izzo was STILL MAD at Daddy when she woke up! Until, that is, we baked a cake and got some of that in her. Then she looked like this:
Hey, here's another aside: Izzo is a big fan of a singer called Sia. (www.siamusic.net) Australian soul-indie songwriting chick who's famous here for her song that closed the HBO series "Six Feet Under," and for her recognizable CD cover that was visibly for sale for the past year at Starbucks everywhere. Hamlet started listening first, actually, before sharing her songs with me, and now, well, Izzo loves crawling up into her carseat in my car because I keep the CD in there for her, and she knows the songs, kinda, sometimes humming along, sometimes sort of singing along and always tapping her little legs to the ballady beats. And ALWAYS, after EACH and EVERY song finishes, going, "Again! Again! More! More! Please?" And then growing this gigantic smile each time the next song starts again.
... re-reading all that above, fam and friends, I'm struck, I guess, by one overarching observation: Izzo is a sensitive, sensitive creature -- who is waking up. Just in time for a big hug from Mommy/Momomom and her Daddy, who, too, is sensitive, and feeling pretty badly that he managed to inadvertently hurt his daughter's substantial feelings earlier. Sigh.
We'll all be OK, though, promise.
But please do think good thoughts for the reunification of "Naty! Naty! Naty!" and "Bell! Bell!"
Lots and lots and lots of love.
Us
Quick postscript: Izzo was STILL MAD at Daddy when she woke up! Until, that is, we baked a cake and got some of that in her. Then she looked like this:
1 comment:
are you sure that she's not just a midwestern girl at heart? we all just shut our eyes (or doors) and pretend something isn't there instead of dealing with a situation :).
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