Posted by: mindyourknitting | April 21, 2010

Feb-Mar-Apr, Redux: Part the Third (Fin)


 Subtitled: Papa’s Girl

You know how when your kid is born, you kind of decide what they are going to call you, as parents, and your parents, as grandparents?  And then the kid starts talking, and all bets are off?  We’ve been experiencing this over the past few months, and the results have been surprising.  I always thought I’d be mommy and Erik would be daddy, but Mama and Dada have stuck so far, and I have to admit I kind of like Mama.  The odd time Abigail calls me Mommy it makes me cringe a bit because I take it as a sign that she’s getting older and slowly leaving babyish things behind, and in the  nautral order of things she’ll start calling me mommy and this will be reinforced by our entire society and that will be it.  I kind of hope I’m Mama for good, but we’ll see.   Erik’s parents are Oma and Opa, which is distinct and easy to say – perfect.  My parents were going to be Grandma and Grampy (I called my grandfather Grampy), but my mother waged a campaign against “Grandma” so we worked on “Gramma” for a while, but she’s been working her mojo on Abigail when we’re not around and now she’s Gigi (“GG” – for Gramma and the initial of her last name.  I’m not even kidding).  My dad was Grampa, we thought, but Abigail kept coming out with the word “Papa” and we couldn’t figure out who it was.  I finally put it together, and my dad is “Papa” to her, which I think is adorable.  My dad was the last person out of the grandparents that she had a clear name for, but her settling on Papa has coincided with a clear shift – she’s now all about my dad when it comes to doing fun stuff outside.  I mean, she even prefers him to my MOM sometimes.  They feed horses, ride the tractor, and generally goof around.  She’s Little Miss Outdoorsy, and I have NO idea where she gets it. 

And how are ewe?

A couple of weeks ago Erik was away over the weekend so Abigail and I went to see my parents and have breakfast at a sugar shack near them, Proulx Sugarbush & Berry Farm (they also do a haunted house at Halloween, and still have the undead accoutrements hanging from the trees.  This was a bit jarring on our idyllic horse-drawn wagon ride through the forest to the pancake house.  I’m just sayin.)  They had a petting zoo and several play structures, and I’m pretty sure Abigail would have been happy if we had just dropped her off and picked her up in about a week. 

We started with the petting zoo, which was a bit limited although Abigail was kind of nuts about the ducks.  She checked out the animals, played in the playhouses, and then we went for took the wagon to the pancake house to eat.  On the way to the wagon a certain structure had caught Abigail’s eye, and I attempted to explain to her that she was too little to go on it right now.  That’s not terribly effective with a wilful toddler, by the way.  So my dad jumped in and offered to take her on the Tower of Terror slide, which she totally loved.  In case you can’t picture a really long slide down a very high hill, here’s a picture:

Fear is for babies.

This really doesn’t do it justice – I wold have thought twice about going down this thing (rickety construction notwithstanding) but my kid was ready to hurl herself head-first down the long, long path to the bottom.  After we dragged her away from her new most favouritest thing in the universe, we checked out the rest of the farm and then headed home.  And the whole time she was glued to her Papa, who clearly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Two of a kind

So, do your kids call you, or anyone else, what you planned them to? Have they come up with anything really inventive?


  1. My father is Papa too! (Or sometimes Poppy). My mom really wanted a nickname but we couldn’t come up with one, until my nephew started calling her Yaya and it stuck. I think it actually is “grandmother” in Lebanese Arabic. So now there house is Papayaya’s house, which I love.

    As for David’s parents, his mother is gran or granny, being British and all, and his father is campaigining to be called grumpa. Hilarious.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: