Which is why Izzy could operate the hydraulics on a Fork Lift Truck by the age of 3 (the only thing that stopped her properly driving it was that she couldn't reach the pedals), and why she can identify every make of car on the road. Oh yeh, I teach her 'proper' stuff. In fact I reckon I am a bit like that wise old teacher in the film 'Karate Kid' (except that I haven't got grey hair and I'm not a bloke).
Just yesterday, Izzy made me swell with pride because her best friend's Dad had just bought a new car. The best friend described the car as 'black and shiney', and Izzy described it as an 'Audi A4'. I like that attention to detail, and I patted her on the head as a reward.
So, talking of skills, Izzy and I were in the car recently, driving home from the cinema and having a bit of a chat, when she turned to me and asked, "Mama, can you show me how to put on make-up when we get home?" [Note: she has taken to calling me Mama ever since her skiing holiday in France last year. She even pronounces it like a Frenchy for chrissake].
Pic.No.1 Izzy in the car. She had nicked my bloody sunglasses to look cool
"Teach you how to put on make-up?" I recoiled in horror. "How about I teach you how to service a car instead?" I suggested, "that would be much more useful."
"I don't want to service the car," she replied, "I want you to show me how to put on make-up."
Ah bugger. The kid wasn't budging.
"OK," I said resignedly, "I'll show you when we get home." And then I changed the subject for the rest of the journey in the hope that she would forget. Fat chance.
The minute I opened the house door, she turned to me, grinned, and said "show me how to do make-up!"
"Alright," I sighed, before suggesting "I will put make-up on myself so that you can see how I do it, and then you can try it for yourself."
"YAY!" shouted Izzy jumping up and down.
I got my make-up bag, and sat down beside her, painstakingly applying my schlap. The whole time Izzy eyed me intently. So intently that she didn't notice the bit of dribble coming out of the corner of her mouth. I finally finished, "it's your turn," I said, handing her the make-up bag and watching her scuttle off upstairs to her bedroom.
45 minutes later, I heard the sound of her feet descending the stairs and a little voice shouting, "I'm ready!"
And she was a sight to behold ..................................................
I really didn't expect this ...........................................................
So had the make-up lesson paid off? ..........................................
Pic.No.2. In a word, 'NOPE'
Izzy however, was ecstatic with her achievements, "do you think I look beautiful Mama?"
After my initial shock, I decided to encourage her efforts by saying, "Of course you do dahlink - you look just like a princess. Now go and wash it off because we have got to go to the supermarket."
"I'm not washing it off," she replied indignantly.
"But we've got to go out, and you can't go like that," I cajoled.
"Why can't I go out like this? You said that I looked beautiful," she retorted. Game, Set, and Match to Izzy.
And so my dear reader, I had to endure taking Izzy to the supermarket looking like, well, 'that'. And if watching all the strangers point and mutter 'bad mother' wasn't enough, I accidentally bumped into at least three of Izzy's schoolmates and their parents (I never normally see anyone I know in the supermarket for chrissake).
I tell you what, if Izzy's new school nickname isn't 'White Trash Kid', I will eat Naughty George ..... raw.
Should have stuck to teaching her how to service a car.
P.S. So have you got any embarrassing kid moments that you would like to share in order to make me feel any better?!