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DADDY'S GIRL: What's in a name? A lot for this sad daddy
Welcome to the “sweeping changes” edition of this column. First, as you can see at right, Penny and I have an updated picture to run in this space (what a cutie ...I mean her, of course).
Second, I write to inform my faithful readers that the name of this column will change for now. It can no longer be “Daddy’s Little Girl” because, thanks to the encouragement of a couple of Penny’s relatives, my baby girl rarely calls me “da-da.”
Since she was encouraged to say it several weeks ago, the word “Paul” has increasingly crept into my daughter’s vocabulary. It’s better than her saying a curse word — I suppose — but there’s a lot of unlearning that’s ahead of us in the weeks to come.
Last week when the family went out to lunch, Penny replied “Paul” when her mom asked her who I was. That follows numerous instances of her randomly calling for me by my given name — although, to be fair, I must report that the name’s always been used at appropriate times. She also gets a kick out of my mock disgust, always laughing at the exaggerated, pseudo-depressed faces I make when I try to correct her (she has a natural inclination toward schadenfreude, I suppose).
“Paul” is better than “Doody-Head,” but the entire development is a bit disappointing. I can still remember the first time she called me “da-da” and how much it warmed my heart. I consider “dad” to be an earned name rather than a given one, and I was ecstatic that she said that.
Now ... well, there’s nothing to differentiate what she calls me from how the bill collectors ask for me.
Those of you who read my articles in Night & Day as well as here (yes, I mean you, honey) might recall a recent reference to a game I sometimes play wherein I relate real-life experiences to things that happen on “The Simpsons.”
Well, I can’t help but draw the comparison here. In a flashback episode during which Lisa learns how to talk, she spouts off Bart’s name and takes a stab at David Hasselhoff before getting to Homer, whom she similarly wouldn’t call “da-da.” After several prompts, she morphs his preferred name for him and his given name into “Domer,” drawing his ire while pleasing the kids.
Homer, I feel your pain.
I’ll readily admit that there is a little humor to the situation (or if you ask some members of the family, a lot). Confusion is natural for a child when everyone else calls me one thing but she’s expected to say something else; the encouragement from some relatives doesn’t help.
But I like being “da-da.” No one else on this planet can call me that — or at least, I hope wouldn’t call me that — so that name represents a special bond that only she and I share (and, of course, Little Lane No. 2 after January).
She’s the most significant person in my life, my little Sweet Pea.
And I am her ... Paul.
Perhaps I shouldn’t complain. After all, I get to see her every day, which is a privilege not all parents enjoy. Right is right, however, and it sets a bad precedent (not to mention dents my heart) to have her continue with bad habits.
I suppose, though, that I could always just get revenge. She’s bright enough to unlearn “grandma” in a hurry, after all ...
Contact editor Paul Laneat 693-1000, ext. 116, or lanep@gnnewspaper.com.
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