Papi Pooper

by Cathy

"Hmm..." wondered Ari aloud as she tapped her index finger to her pursed lips. It was bedtime and she had some hard decisions to make.  As she mulled over which book to choose for her bedtime story, she asked me, "Who should I ask to read me a book today, you or Papi?"

I offered my suggestion, knowing full well that she will do the opposite. "Why don't I read it tonight and papi will do it tomorrow night?"

"I'll ask Papi," she said definitively. "Then you can do it tomorrow night."

Surprise!

Bella, overhearing our conversation, piped in. "Well, then mommy can read me a story tonight then. Can you mommy?" Since I secretly love that my 11-year old still wants me to read her a bedtime story, I quickly agreed. I'll take this as long as I can get it.

I settled into Bella's bed with her and the book she chose, while Joe limped into the room half asleep.

"Here, papi!" said Ari, way more energetic than she should be at this hour. "Here's the book I want."
She pointed to a fancy, two-inch thick hardcover with gold gilded paging entitled Treasury of Bedtime Stories.

"That whole thing?!" said Joe, alarmed.
"No!!" said Ari laughing. Even she knew better than that. "Just one story, papi."
"How about half a story. It's late and I'm tired and you guys need to go to bed."

Bella burst into incredulous laughter, since she and I were privy to that whole conversation while sitting on her bed. "HALF a story?! Who reads half a story??"

"Ha ha ha!" I chimed in. "Papi is such a party pooper!" [Pause for laughter that was quickly building up in my lungs as a result of the new nickname that ingeniously and rapidly formed in my head.] "A papi pooper!!!" I barely screamed out with dissipating breath. [More hysterical laughing here by both of us.] "Remember that party pooper song from Father of the Bride?!" I elbowed a doubled-over Bella.

Taking a deep breath, she shrieked "Yessssssss!" and began singing the following from the movie:

 

By now Bella and I were chanting this repeatedly in the crazy Franc accent while tappin' our toes and flicking our wrists. Ari, who wasn't familiar with the movie, was giggling hysterically. Joe was hiding behind Treasury of Bedtime Stories, no doubt rolling his eyes and keeping his cheeks from exploding with laughter. Why? Because he knows it's true.

Bella further proved the point by recalling the times when he was supposed to be reading her a bedtime story, but instead, she read to him while he snored to high heaven. Or whenever the girls are running, laughing, fighting, roughhousing, playing at ANY time of day or night, he would yell out, "Go to bed!!"

No doubt getting pretty tired at this point of being labeled a Party Pooper, he bravely attempted to dispute the accusation by agreeing to a game of Twister with the girls the other night. I say bravely because he is barely off his crutches and his ankle is still rather swollen, which means he can't put undue pressure on it, still has to ice it and was scolded by his doctor because he should still be using at least one crutch. I think he lasted about four minutes being hunched over on the Twister mat and we decided to give him a pass. A party pooper papi pass.