Name Calling

I’ve been having a bit of an identity crisis at home lately. I used to walk in the front door at night to Jack greeting me with some variation on the word “Daddy” and Dimitri saying something like “hello Mark”. Very nice; it’s always pleasant to be greeted by one’s family when you get home after a hard day of work. Lately, I’ve been opening the door and hearing a chorus of Marks from both boys. Jack has apparently demoted me from “daddy” to “Mark” because he hears Dimitri call me Mark and figures that since his big brother is worthy of emulation in most other areas, it must be so with his father’s nomenclature. In the beginning, I admit that I harbored some resentment against my own son for what I perceived to be an unwarranted informality in our communications; it bothered me for a few weeks, now I don’t care so much. After all, these things have to be put in their proper perspective. I’m sure he’ll call me much worse when he becomes a teenager. I do attempt to correct him by repeating “daddy” over and over right back to his little smiling face when he runs after me calling, “Mark, Mark, Mark”, but it hasn’t worked. He either doesn’t get my point or, as I suspect, just enjoys seeing my minor freak-outs. It’s entertainment for the boy. In the scheme of questionable behavior, this one doesn’t even rate.