Baby Marsielle must have a nickname. It says so in Beau’s Big Book of Southern Rules of Conduct. The question is: What should her nickname be?
Southern folks love a good nickname. It’s not an urban myth. It’s real life. Take Beau, for instance. His proper name, carefully spelled out on his birth certificate signed in Selma, Alabama in 1979, is Michael Thomas Blake. There’s nothing Beau about his real name at all. Yet he’s been known as Beau since he was a baby.
And so, in an effort to keep Southern tradition flowing in our kids’ veins, he christens each of them with a nickname.
He has been calling Asher by the nickname “Skid Row” ever since Asher was tiny. This nickname makes absolutely no sense to me. What does Skid Row even mean? I guess I’m just thankful he didn’t decide on “Bubba” or “Booger” for our only son.
Beau calls Emi, the oldest girl, by the nickname “Fuzz Head.” This one I can kinda understand because her hair is exceptionally fuzzy. And she loves her nickname. She reminds him all the time that she is his little Fuzz Head.
Personally, I love Emi’s proper name, which is Emilyn (pronounced EM-uh-lin). I wanted her name to be Emilyn. But as soon as she was born, Beau took to calling her Emi (EM-ee), which really is not short for Emilyn at all (EM-uh would be, though; see proper pronunciation). I fought this nickname “Emi” for a long time, insisting on calling her Emilyn whenever the opportunity presented itself. Trouble is, now whenever I call her Emilyn, it sounds like she’s in trouble. And she thinks of herself as Emi and of Emilyn as an impostor with whom she is occasionally confused. In fact, the last time I called her Emilyn, she growled at me: “My… name… is not… Emma-BIM!”
Clearly this is a battle I’m not going to win.
So on to the business of choosing a nickname for the third-born, proper name Marsielle (mar-see-EL). Beau does very well calling her by her proper name. Sometimes we shorten it to Marsi (MAR-see), which as far as I’m concerned is a wonderful nickname. Yet he has been seriously brainstorming over what her real nickname ought to be.
You may recall me blogging previously about how Asher, for some inexplicable reason, has taken to calling Marsielle “The Punisher.” This is a very apt nickname for him to call her, because she lumbers up to his intricate Lego and Playmobil and Lincoln Log projects and topples, destroys, obliterates, and generally behaves like a natural disaster in his 5-year-old imagination. As I’ve written before, she is the King Kong to his New York City.
For exactly these same reasons, we have also been calling Marsielle by the (unofficial) nickname “Baby Giant.” She just attacks anything that’s lower to the ground than she is, but in a toothless and slobbery sort of way. Then she plops on her diapered bottom and coos. I think if you saw her in real life you would agree that Baby Giant just fits her.
Of course, Beau and I are having a bit of a Northwest-Southeast language barrier on this one, too. He wants to call her Giant Baby instead of Baby Giant, which in my opinion isn’t correct at all. It isn’t that she is an abnormally large baby, which Giant Baby suggests. (Talk about a nickname that could scar a girl for life!)
Instead, she is a Baby Giant: a very young specimen of a breed of very large humans, humans big enough to step on regular-size houses (or, in this case, cabins made out of Lincoln Logs).
You see the difference, right? Thank you.
So the vote is between
a) The Punisher, or
b) Baby Giant.
Please let me know if you have a preference and I will be sure to tally the results.