Saturday, August 4, 2007
My aunt has requested that I not refer to my granddaughter as "The Moose". But I can't help it. I've called her that since she was a baby. Her other grandmother started calling her "Maddy Moo" when she was just a few months old. (Which kind of made sense...she was a chubby little thing. Absolutely adorable!) Somehow, I managed to elongate that nickname into "Maddy Moose". And it's stuck. It's kind of funny when you see her answering to "Moose". She's way tall for her age and barely even casts a shadow because she's so skinny. I'm sure I'll stop calling her that when she's old enough for prom or when she leaves for college or at least by the time she gets married. Surely I will. Unless, of course, I'm like members of my own family. The ones who still call me Sissy to this day. Oh don't even act like Sissy's not as bad as Moose. Trust me when I tell you it is. Now that I'm 43, I've come to accept that nickname as being permanent. I've overcome the damage to my psyche that being called Sissy has caused over the years. I'm okay. Really. I am. And so is the Moose.