We call our daughter by a seemingly endless list of nicknames. What better place to begin the first of what should be many lists. Future lists may focus on what I’m feeling or doing as a father, but first I’ll start with her. Drum roll, please. Here, in no particular order, is my first list:
- (1) Pea Pod (Her first Halloween costume – which she hated – was literally a big green zipper bag of a pea pod.)
- (2) Princess (Isn’t everyone’s daughter a princess?)
- (3) Pinkalicious (for the book with same name that tells the tale of a young girl overly infatuated with all things pink)
- (4) Babalooie (No idea about the origin of this nickname)
- (5) Little Girl (as she sometimes reminds us that she is not yet a big girl, only a little girl, despite our certainty that she is much more than a little girl).
As for me, I don’t really need any nicknames. Hearing “Daddy” in a small, little girl voice is way more than enough for me. Sometimes the voice is not so little girl at all. “Daddy” (almost a whisper)… “Daddy” (a bit louder)… “DADDY!!” (much louder) is a predictable sequence when I’m not focused on her. One time, after she had exhausted her levels of Daddy to no avail, she, commandingly, spoke “PETER!” My head turned to her instantly. Finally, I must confess my heart melts when she utters, insouciant little girl smile and playful eyes perfectly timed, “Daddy-cakes”.