As my dad was explaining about nicknames I realized that I wanted a nickname. And I knew immediately what I wanted it to be. "Dad, dad, I know what my nickname should be. Dad, dad I want a nickname." The other kids were talking and had my dad's attention. So I got down off the steps where I was sitting in my nightgown and stood patiently next to my father. It seemed like a long time before he finally put his arm around my waist and bent his head down to me to let me know he could hear me now. "Dad,I know what my nickname should be." "Oh, okay, what should it be?"
"Pond" I replied with the conviction of the wonderfulness of my new nickname. What name could be more marvelous than "pond?" That magical place where frogs leaped and ducks played and all sorts of beautifula and fantastic bugs and plants lived. I smiled proudly at my dad and siblings. "Pom, yes pom, that is a good nickname. We will call you pom."
My face dropped. Oh no my dad had not heard me correctly and he had already turned his attention to someone else. I grabbed his sleeve. "No dad, no. Not pom, pond. Dad not pom." This time I didn't wait , it was far too urgent that I clear up this mistake right away. I tugged harder. "Dad, not pom, pond."
Dear reader, please be patient as I have been. There is more of this story to come.
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1 comment:
I love hearing about your nickname, Judi. The little girl in her nightgown tugging at her dad for a spot of attention. Finally she gets his ear but he hears it wrong. This is a classic moment.
My nickname was Cackleberry, shortened to Cack when I got older. I can't remember its origins but will ask my parents again. I know that I cackled as a baby and that was part of it. And I was fat, perhaps round like a berry.
Writing about your name is a great prompt.
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