Lately, my seven year old has taken to calling me Chicken Larry. I don’t know exactly what it’s all about but, depending on her mood, I will get various derivations of it. When she’s tired and crabby she calls me Chickens. When she agrees with me, she says, “Okay, Larry”. When she’s talking conversationally, she calls me Larry Chickens. Daddy, certainly…but only when she wants something!
But mostly…I guess I’m Chicken Larry now. Okay. She is Booboo, Jojo, Turkey, Sazzlefrazzle, Beautimous, Sweets and Schweetums. So, I’ll allow it. It would appear to onlookers that we really don’t know each others actual names.
My oldest, I call GG and have been forced to let go of all the other things I used to call her when she was younger. She allows me Hun occasionally…but that’s about it. Graciepie, Monkey, Goober and Apple Cheeks don’t fly no ‘mo. She is a no muss, no fuss kinda gal and just calls me Dad. As such, she is also the only woman of the womanly women persuasion on this earth allowed to call me Dude.
My *fingerscrossed* future son-in-law calls me by my name (to my face anyway), as I do him. But even that small familiarity took a while. He would never use anything but statements or questions when he addressed me. I’m glad we’ve gotten past that bump in the road.
It may have started back in the olden days when my dad would refer to all his close friends by either their last names, or their “golf” nicknames. But to me, nicknames are extremely familiar. My last name is too long to ever be greeted with it. So, I’ll get Sammy, Bud, Buddy or Brother from my male friends. And Sam from my female friends, not Sir, Mister, Son, Dude or Bro…No. Adult endearments, too, seem especially overly familiar to me, and using them much before you’ve earned that, on either side, feels presumptuous or disrespectful, depending.
My students call me Mr. C because it’s the quickest. It’s a little Happy Daysish but I’ve gotten used to it.
To other drivers, and probably some additional folks, I’m Jackass…which my youngest often relays to me when my peripheral vision fails me and I invade someone’s space in a line, or cut someone off in a turn lane. Sorry, I gotta keep my eyes forward! What can I say?
When my teenager was little and first test running her rebellious streak, she would call me Samuel with a snide tilt of her little head. It drove my mother in.sane. She never failed to correct my daughter or let me hear the end of it. Her mom and I never cared about it and, sure enough, it passed. I’m positive I’ll be called many other things in both near and far futures, but sometimes I wonder, these days, what my mom would think of her eldest son who is now called Chicken Larry.
Be well, Friends. Enjoy the weekend
Dad, Benevolent Overlord
Oh, and I Googled Chicken Larry just for funsies. This is the first pic. I gotta say, even though it makes me feel strangely uncomfortable, I see the resemblance 🤗