Isabella

Today I am grateful for my granddaughter, Isabella, who is eleven years old today.  No, it’s not an April Fool’s joke.  She really was born on this date.  It’s perfect for her.

I don’t know which came first, her evil April Fool’s ways or the fact that she feels she must live up to her April Fool’s birthday.  She is a real practical joker.  Even though it comes every year, I’m usually oblivious to April Fool’s Day.  I’ve been pranked by the usual salt in the sugar, watery milk and odd phone call confessing all manner of weirdness and distress.    

Last year we were invited to Isabela’s house for a little birthday celebration on her actual birthday.  You can guess where this is going. . .maybe. Unbeknownst to grandpa and me, she and her friend, Dominic were plotting and scheming much like her dad did before her.  She comes by this honestly through generations of evil doers.

We drive about an hour to their house.  Grandpa has prostate issues, common with men his age.  Still think you know where this is going?  Wait for it.  Usually he lunges into their house spouting, “Out of the way.  Grandpa has to pee.”  Then he hugs and greets after. 

When we came in the door Isabella and her friend were vibrating with expectation.  They looked guilty.  A mother knows and a grandma never forgets that look.  It’s unmistakable. Her father was lurking nearby and had the same look.  They expected grandpa to rush past them to the bathroom, but he didn’t.  I did.  “Hi, love you, gotta pee,” I said, rushing to the bathroom.  I had drunk a large bottle of water on the ride there and couldn’t unzip fast enough.

You know that feeling your bladder gets when it KNOWS the bathroom is nearby?  Or is it only mine that has its own timer that can’t be set back no matter what I do.  Gross alert here.  I sat and let it rip.

“What?  What is that?  What is going on?”  I shouted, feeling my substantial bottom getting wet.  And warm.  I stood.  Sort of.  “What in the HELL!?”  Saran wrap was pulled tightly on the seat, pooling nicely and stretching just like it says it will on a bad commercial.  You’d never see this on TV.  I shouted and cursed like Phyllis Diller on steroids.  They expected grandpa to lift the seat and see the saran wrap. Then he’d pull it off.  Ha-ha.  Very funny. 

“We got her!  Daddy, we got grandma good!”  I heard Isabella outside the powder room door.  She and Dominic were hysterical. 

“You are an evil child, just like your father!”  I shouted back, bouncing around in their small powder room like a squirrel in an attic.

“What?” her dad asked.  “You got GRANDMA?  That’s awesome.  Good job, Bella!”  I heard the slaps of high-fives all around.  They were all hysterical.

I was in that bathroom a long time.  Please don’t use your imagination.  They were rolling on the floor.  When I came out they scattered like spooked kittens, peeking around corners.  I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, “You need toilet paper.”  Their faces were twisted with laughter.  “All of the wipes are gone.”  Tears were running down their cheeks.  “Any other leftover mess. . .I’m NOT cleaning up!”  Isabella and her friend had rubber gloves, paper towels and disinfectant spray ready. 

“Happy birthday, Isabella,” I said, as they headed to the powder room.  By now I was laughing right along with them.  They sprayed and wiped and I heard Isabella say, “Best birthday present EVER. . . EVER!”  Then they burst into more fits of laughter. 

So today I’m grateful for Isabella. . .and I’m staying away from her.