That's My Name

For as long as I can remember, Leo has called me “Dee-Dee.” That’s just been his version of “Mommy” and well, who am I to argue? I was admittedly thrilled when he came up with the term around age 3 ½. At least he was calling me something, I reasoned. Speech is speech, right?

Leo’s teacher and speech therapist have been well aware of the “Dee-Dee” situation and have been working with him all year to correct it. In fact Leo’s teacher joked that it was her “mission” (well, one of them) for the year.

And so, a few weeks ago, one day quite of the blue, it happened:

“Mommy!”

Granted, Leo’s version is more akin to “Ma-Bee!” But hey, I’ll take it!

And it’s been all “Ma-Bee” all the time since then.

It still hasn’t quite sunk in, that he’s talking to me, saying the word I’ve been waiting to hear since he was a toddler and all his peers were speaking and ordering “Uppy Mommy” and Leo was saying… nothing.

Leo's new favorite refrain is “Oh-Day Ma-Bee!” (OK Mommy!) the resigned and quite patient response to my perpetual nagging (seriously, I get on my own damn nerves so I can only imagine how everyone else in the house feels about me). Said nagging commences in the morning when he’s not eating his scrambled eggs fast enough and doesn’t end until nightfall, when he takes too long to get upstairs or or pick out his books or select just the proper pajama ensemble.

But like I said, I’ll take it.