Proppiness

Sarah and RW and I were slouched around the living room this very humid evening, eating dinner off the little yellow Ikea table that's sometimes the coffee table and sometimes Sarah's work space, and suddenly she got irked that we'd taken over her territory for our communal meal and suggested/ordered that we all take our food and move over to the official dining table.

We both kind of groaned and said we were too tired to move. This would ordinarily be her cue for some kind of tantrum, but instead she picked up her hands pointed/shook them at me in this sort of archery gesture, not in a hostile way, though. Then she said "There. I shooted you full of proppiness so you can get up."

Actually, she said "pwoppiness," but it sounded like she meant to put an R in there. I wasn't sure, though. "Poppiness?" I asked.

"No, pwoppiness. I shooted you with lots of pwoppiness. Mama, too." And she did the same gesture at RW.

"Proppiness?" I tried again, a little tentatively. Sometimes she gets frustrated when we don't understand what she's saying and I was wary of getting my head bitten off.

I think she was starting to get the idea that we didn't think it was a real word, so she explained for our benefit, somewhat condescendingly. "I shooted you full of interestedness. Pwoppiness."

"Well, I don't think it's working," RW commented.

Sarah made the little gesture again. By this time she'd forgotten all about kicking us off her table. "There. I shooted you full of more pwoppiness. Is it working now?"

I guess it sort of was. We were certainly sitting up straighter.

Proppiness. If it's not a word, it should be.