My son calls me babba. Not mommy; not momma.  Babba.  We’re not really sure how this started.  He said momma first, so I knew long ago that he knew how to say it.  But, he just decided that he wanted to call me Babba.  There was a point when we would say momma and he would respond very impishly and decisively, "Babba!"  It was, by all appearances, a very intentional choice on his part.

A while back, when he was really just beginning to talk, the one thing that he would choose to say to strangers (and friends, often) was Babba.  As he would start to warm up to somebody, he would point to me and say "Babba."  It was as if he were saying, "I’m starting to be ok with you now, so the first thing you need to know about me is that this is my Babba."  It was precious. Most people had no idea what he was saying, but would smile and respond to whatever they thought he was trying to communicate.  It was kind of like a little inside joke we had going on for a while.  I knew he was talking about me and I felt truly honored to be my sweet little boy’s Babba.

Part of me thinks that having now two children, I am entitled to the beloved "Mommy." Regardless, Cael is not to be disuaded.  He is fully conscious that I am his Mommy but is convinced that his Mommy’s name is "Babba."  So, he calls me by my name–his name, for me.

The question now is what his little sister will think of all this.  And when Cael will become too embarrassed to use the nickname he has assigned to me.  I will enjoy a more traditional title when it comes, I think.  But, for now, there is something sweet about our little inside joke.