We had a crazy morning - full of trying to get a car in order to get some ashes and go to Mass, and drop my mom at the airport, and Lily breaking out in serious hives, which were suspected by all to be the Pox (Chicken variety), therefore meriting a trip to the doctor - who's name, I kid you not was Dr. Pocker. I very nearly asked if they send all Pock-type cases to him but figured he's heard that joke at least a million times (just like I've heard all the jokes surrounding the car Lexus and my name) and so I would be the only one laughing. So I was on the phone with my mom, my husband, the doctor all before breakfast and my mom came to pick us up to go to Mass and Mosesdidn't believe that she was really here so I said, "She's here, honey. She just called me on the phone and told me that she's here."
Moses: Oh. But did you call my friend, David, too?
Me: Your friend, David? [raking my brain for friends in Atrium or Sunday School named David]. No honey, I didn't talk to your friend, David.
Moses: My daddy, David? My friend?
Me: Ohhhhh. That friend David. Yes, I did talk to him but he's your friend, Daddy. His name is David but he is your Daddy so you call him Daddy.
Moses: But Vid calls him David.
And here is the crux of the problem we come to see. My six-year old brother calls Moses Grandma, Mom and therefore Moses does too. Same thing for his Grandpa, he's just Dad. Now, I do not want this linguistic confusion to follow us into our home so maybe I'll just have Vid start calling David, Daddy. OK, maybe not.
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