Poopsie

I promised to tell the story of how my father came to be known as 'Poopsie'...the Poopster...the Grand Poopah...okay, okay we just call him Poopsie, and really I think that is enough. Don't you?

When I was pregnant with Lauren my mom picked out the names Mumsie and Poopsie for the grandnames. She thought the names were adorable. Dave thought they were ridiculous...especially the Poopsie. He protested immediately. My mom didn't really care what he thought (she rarely does) and she stuck to her guns.

So did Dave.

As the months of my pregnancy flew by (as fast as bleeding, pre-eclempsia and bed rest can fly by) it became clear that neither of them were going to agree on a grandname for my dad. Dave was determined that he be called Papaw and mom was sticking with Poopsie. Eventually they decided that whichever name she said first was going to be the name we used.

When Lauren was born they each used the names they had chosen. They used them a lot...a whole bunch of A LOT. The day finally came that she finally called my dad by a name.

Poopsie.

But Dave had the last laugh. As it turns out young children can't say Poopsie very well. Lauren couldn't. Brooklyn couldn't. Tre couldn't. Instead what they said was Poosie.

I'll just let that sink in for a minute.

Everybody on the same page now? That's right. I said Poosie as in poooseee. It really wasn't as fun or cute as it might sound. It was actually awkward and blush inspiring. Especially for my mom because she is the one that insisted on the name. I could tell countless stories about the embarrassment this name caused or about the fun my uncle had telling the kids to say Daddy loves Poopsie (yeah, I come from some up-town folk), but I will limit it to one story.

When Lauren was about 18 months old my dad was taking up offering at church and we were all sitting towards the back of the sanctuary. Lauren really wanted to go with my dad, but of course she couldn't. Her little lip quivered for a bit...waiting just long enough for him to get to the very front of the church and then she stood on the pew and said, 'Pooooossssiiiieeee....I want my Poooossssiiieeee'. Well everyone and I do mean everyone sorta gasped together and turned to look at her/us. Then my mom stands up and announces very loudly, "She is saying Poopsie everybody...she is saying POOPSIE." I wanted to crawl under my seat and hide until everyone left.

Good times. Good times.

And now you know how my Dad ended up named not only after a bodily function, but at times after a body part as well.