Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Justin Beaver

Someone told L the name of the boy on her hat. She modifies her name all the time, so now when she wears her hat, you are not to call her L. You call her Justin Bieber. And then she yells her name in response:


I've tried to correct her pronunciation of his surname at least two dozen times but she simply doesn't agree with me. He's the Beav, in our house, and he's also a girl, didn't you know? Because he's on a purple hat. And his hair is pretty.

There's no point arguing with a three-year-old, so I just say, "okay, pretty Justin Beaver, let's go," and she'll happily come along.

Yesterday she decided she wasn't the Beav, and told me her name was L R Noteverstill Ladybug Ladybug Jocko. And all evening and last night I addressed her by her six-part full name. I kissed her good night at the end of a long day and she whispered, Mama, you don't have to say all the names. You can just call me Jocko.

"Okay, love, but why 'Jocko?'"

Well, it's my favorite name and it's what I'm changing my name to when I'm a grownup, so you can begin calling me that now for practice. Call me Jocko. You have my permission, she offered, flouting her latest vocabulary acquisition.

"Sweet dreams, Jocko."

Sweet dreams, Jocko's mama!

All day today I called her Jocko Ladybug or Ladybug Jocko. All day she smiled, although when we left school she did punctuate the air with one loud farewell JUSTIN BEAVER! because by now it gets laughs from all her teachers. We closed out the day, or so I thought, and then my lovely shape-shifter popped back out of her room.

Mama, tomorrow don't call me Jocko anymore. I don't like that name after today.

I wonder who she'll be tomorrow. Pin It