Giggly Izzy

I love Isabelle.  We speak the same language.  We often laugh together

as others look on confused. I sometimes laugh at her naughtiness when

I shouldn't.

I had the following conversation with Belle the night before she

turned four.  It was actually more of a monologue.  On a side note, I

had a dictionary that defined monologue- see soliloquy and soliloquy-

see monologue.  That was the whole definition.  I had to consult a

second dictionary.  I mean- come on people.

I am on the couch with Izzy and Isaac and Wendy.  I grab Izzy and tell

her, "I love three-year old Izzy.  Three-year old Izzy is the best.

She is funny and pretty and silly and energetic.  I am going to miss

three-year old izzy."  I give her a long hug and kiss her cheek.  She

does not enjoy being kissed as much since I grew out my beard.  Last

month she begged me to shave it off.  She asked me a dozen times.  One

afternoon I tiptoed upstairs with her (Wendy told me I was not allowed

to shave) and shaved it off with Belle watching.  She stared

fascinated as the whiskers fell into the sink.  When I was done, she

took my face in her hand, smiled at me, and said "Daddy, you look

weird."  I cracked up.  Then quickly grew my beard back.

"But, I am so excited to meet four-year old Izzy.   Four-year old Izzy

is going to be even better than three year old Izzy.  She is going to

grow so big and learn so much.  She is going to be so fast and so

smart.  I can't wait to meet her.  Good night three year-old Izzy.

Thanks for making life so fun."  I feel a little meloncoly at the fact

that my girl is growing up, but it is mixed with excitement, because

she gets better and better.  I glance over at Wendy and she is tearing

up.  I am feeling tender and nostalgic.  I do not know if I have ever

felt nostalgia for the present before.

"Good night three-year old Isabelle.  I will never see you again."

Huh, I think, that is sort of a turn for the morbid.  My mouth keeps

moving, though.  "When three-year old Belle goes to sleep, Four-year

old Belle is going to get her."  Wendy's near tears are replaced with

surprise.  And yet, my brain is not done. "Four-year old Isabelle is

going to kill her,"  I hear myself say.  Surprise turns to shock.  My

feelings of tenderness are invaded by guilt.  What sort of dad makes

that joke?  My guilt is interrupted, though, by the loud belly

laughter of Isabelle.

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I captured these on the rainy eve of her 4th birthday.

Salt Lake Utah Lifestyle Photographer
Salt Lake Utah Lifestyle Photographer
Salt Lake Utah Lifestyle Photographer

BLUE LILY | Lifestyle Photographer | Salt Lake City, Utah