Isn’t it funny how we go to great lengths to name our child the PERFECT name…and then refer to him as anything BUT his given name? I fought hard to have Liam named Liam and then Day 1, in the hospital, I started calling him Squishy and Squeaky. My husband tried to create a “boy-type-nicknames-only” rule when I started calling him Sugar Drop and Kitten. (But he was mewing exactly like one!) Husband soon gave up his futile masculinity mission. And I started what would become a serious identity crisis for the lad.
I’ll be the first to admit it–I’ve called Liam some odd things. Out of love, of course. He quivers with excitment, pumping legs and arms out like one of those wooden toys whose appendages move when you pull the string coming out of their butt. He squawks and caws at me with a smile that splits his face in half and that’s when it happens. Tourettes of Endearment. I seem to have no control over the nonsensical names that pour out of my mouth.
Sugar Pop, Scooby Doo, Honey Bunches of Oats, Sugar Snap Pea, Pee-wee Nose, Doodle Drop, Booger Boo, SquigglySqwooSugarBunnyFlopperDoo.
I need to stop. I’m embarassed.
The Bebe Diaries 