All nice and cozy in bed, with the only one I truly love beside me. She’s all excited about the Oscar’s, and her popcorn and rootbeer. Several long minutes into the boring ass show, I roll over, my back to her. But she is my love and she lets me know when someone she likes wins or loses. Why can’t she be in charge of the Oscar’s instead of that hand that keeps pushing me? Why? One of those questions I guess I’ll never know the answer too. I hear more munching on popcorn and a lot of drinking. Rootbeer! Which has a lot of sugar! That was a bad mistake, but it’s too late now. But I will remember it for future reference. Then it comes the derided moment, the reason she is here instead of where she belongs! In her own room and I could be sleeping. She is now happily shouting and pushing on my shoulder as she jumps up and down on the bed, so I guess I won. I would love to tell the Oscar’s, that they or their trophy don’t even fuckin’ hold a candle to spending a quiet night, home with my seven-year old daughter.
After we both watch Luis give a nice speech, she snuggles down beside me, and smiles up at me, as I reach over and click off the TV. She tells me goodnight and that she loves me, and would of still loved me if I didn’t win. I smile as I kiss her forehead as I pull the blankets up around her, and then tell her that I love her even though she doesn’t have an Oscar, and she giggles and again tells me she loves me, and then closes her eyes, and is soon asleep. Understandable being way past her bedtime, but I silently cheer to myself that the rootbeer didn’t have any effect. After watching her sleep for a few minutes I lay my head down beside her’s and close my eyes, and begin to drift off to a very peaceful sleep.
Then I hear “Daddy . . . I have to go to the bathroom.” And I roll over and click on the lamp beside the bed, laughing to myself truly knowing rootbeer is the only thing that would ever Not let Me get in the last word.
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