Thursday, February 18, 2010

What's in a name...?

I am amazed that my children actually know their real names and respond to them. This amazement stems from the fact that almost every time Hubs and I talk to them, we call them a new name…not a new real name, but a new nickname. These are some of my favorites:

Little Miss Miss, Little Missy Prissy, Cupcake, Miss Crumble Bottom, Sleepy Cakes, Grumpy Pie, Chicker-Doodle, Messy Marvina, Buzz Buzz, Teethies, Stink Pot, Punky Bear, Love Love

Joy seems to have picked up this habit of making up new names. She likes to play “Babies” and her doll gets a new name each time she plays. Her name changes, too. Sometimes she is Malexica, sometimes she goes by Spina, and there are about 87 others, but my all-time fave is “Baby’s Mama.” I want to die laughing every time she says, “Hi, I’m Baby’s Mama…”. If I mistakenly call her Joy, she corrects me—“No, I’m not Joy, I am Baby’s Mama.” (Got it, Baby’s Mama!)

Barbies get new names on a fairly regular basis as well. The other night we were playing a few minutes before bed time. The Barbies had to go to the doctor. I was the receptionist who had to write their names down so the nurse could call them into the exam room. It was very busy that day. These were the patients who filled up the waiting room: Cinderella (she speaks French, actually—according to Joy, but it’s pretty evident because she prefaces everything she says with “Bonjour!”), Jasmine (Joy: she speaks Spanish—Choco-latte!), then there’s Cornchicos, Fraskie, Gossula (Joy: her pants are a little cranky), Carnsantos, Calanady (she’s the busser lady), Sarah Mohney, Marathona, Katrina, Garagossa, Marilyn, Pashawota, Malexica, Furner, Spina, Lena, Dabinas, Mariposa, Jassee, Jessa, Ashuley, Pinastock, Sheeda, Bistina, Gina, Bonacelli, Fairy Godmother, Seena, Mulan, Tinker, Pancake, Snow White, Melissesses, Painapoo, Sherlock, Ivan, Mitzi, Norco, Pita, and Jazza-Airy.

I am constantly entertained by her imagination and her name-smithing. I am just thankful that she does not completely take after me…

When I was little, or so Gigi says, I, too, made up names for my dolls. My favorite names, however, always started with ‘Sh’, e.g., Shannon, Shana, Sharon, Sheila, etc. That was OK, until I made up a name that rhymes with city. Gigi didn’t like that one too much—especially if I wanted to take her out with me in public!

(By the way, we were sheltered when I was growing up. I didn’t know any “bad” words—unless you count stupid and shut up as bad words, which warranted soap in the mouth. One time one of Gigi’s friends came over to visit with her. I always thought this friend was a little wild and a little dangerous—she smoked AND said naughty words. One time she was telling Gigi something and she said “There was $h_t all over the floor.” I went over and whispered to Gigi, “What is $h_t?” Gigi quickly explained it meant poo poo. That grossed me out and made me not want to say or hear that word again. So, my point is that I wasn’t trying to get away with saying a bad word. The name was completely innocent.)

According to Juliet, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet”.

That’s right—unless someone is trying to call you “$h_t_y!

Posted by The Editor for Busy Body.

Note from The Editor: It is entirely possible that Busy Body gagged when Gigi told her the definition of $h_t. Busy Body does not have a strong stomach, er throat, when it comes to these things. It is perplexing, though, how she can actually change a diaper and worked in CSI prior to becoming a mother. One year when we lived together in college and then I had to go on travel with work, I would have to come home periodically to clean out the drawers in the fridge (she couldn't touch rancid food) and take the trash out to the dumpster room in the alley. The dumpster room was pretty bad, in my opinion, but you could open the door and launch the trash and run away and miss most of the cloud of stench. However, it was the thought of the cloud that would make her gag and thus, I would make the three-hour drive back periodically to save her from retching...

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