About a month ago, Tater Tot and I spent the entire day with my mother, whom he calls Poopsie. Well, right now it comes out more like Pootzie, which is much, much better than what it was up until a few months ago. Until then she was PooPoo. Don’t you know we dined out on that one!
Tater Tot, as usual, had a wonderful time with Poopsie. They played outside, got stinking hot and dirty, ate Oreos, read books, watched Animal Planet, made all kinds of silly noises, drank water from Poopsie’s big styrofoam cup WITHOUT a lid — which his mean old mama never lets him do at home — stomped around the house, blew bubbles in their drinks with straws, drew all over each other with pens, and the list just goes on and on. They laughed and giggled and hugged and snuggled and played like having fun was the only option.
Wouldn’t YOU have fun if you had a Poopsie? Of course you would. I strongly believe that grandparents get to do what grandparents want to do because they have more than paid their dues! It’s their turn to be the fun ones. And my mother and Tater Tot have this special bond that the rest of us can’t really “touch,” and they’ve had it ever since they first locked eyes. As Poopsie puts it, “We sort of come from the same place and understand each other,” and I suppose that must be it, because they look at each other like no two people I’ve ever seen. They are two peas in a pod, let me tell you.
When the event I’m writing about took place, Tater Tot wasn’t two yet, and we were trying to teach him some new sentences and phrases, such as, “Night-night.” When I would take him to his room for bed, I would say, “Can you tell Daddy, ‘Night-night?’” and he would repeat it, and he eventually began saying it on his own. The same is true with “I’m sorry,” “Excuse me,” etc. Of course, we have been telling him, “I love you,” since forever, but he hadn’t said it on his own. He might repeat it back to us, but he hadn’t just come on out with it, and that was fine with us. He was full of hugs and kisses and we knew he was affectionate and loving.
That having been said, as we were leaving Poopsie’s house that afternoon, she got in the backseat with Tater Tot as I buckled him into his car seat and they were carrying on a bunch of foolishness as they tend to do. I got in the car and Poopsie leaned in to kiss him goodbye.
As she was getting out of the car, Tater Tot said, “Bye-bye, see you soon,” and he waved his little hand and smiled at her so big that his eyes just disappeared.
She got back in the car and patted his leg and said, “My precious one, come back and see Poopsie. I love you.”
He reached out his chubby little hand, rubbed her arm and softly said, “I love you, Pootzie.”
As far as I know, her feet didn’t touch the ground for several weeks. Because you know how it is when a girl hears those three little words for the first time from a fellow she’s just crazy about.