A few weeks ago, I was helping the Munchkin get ready for school. Combing his hair, to be exact, and trying to get his bedhead hair to lie flat instead of sticking out of his head at ninety degree angles. The child has a serious talent for bedhead. If they had awards for it, he would totally win first place.

As I’m combing, he says to me with a glint in his eye, “Oh, you are hurting my hair (dramatic pause) Glliindaa.”

Now the Munchkin had a brief fling with calling me by my first name about a year and a half ago, which was promptly squashed.

But this time, he was truly having fun with seeing me taken aback a bit.

I steeled myself. Glinda, I told myself, these are the times that try mother’s souls. Just ignore it. Pretend you don’t care one way or the other. He’ll forget about the whole thing soon enough if you do.

He said my name a few minutes later, pronouncing it with utter glee.

Forgive me fellow mothers, for I am weak. Learn from me and my rookie mistakes.

“Do you happen to know that you are the only person in the whole universe that can call me Mommy?” I wheedled said. “Mommy is such a special name and Glinda is such an ordinary name. I think you should call me Mommy.”

Having exposed the soft underbelly of my need, my son has ruthlessly exploited it. He calls me Glinda every chance he can get, even writing me notes with the header “To: Glinda” like I’m his freaking business associate or something.

Although the other day, he was mad at me for having the audacity to tell him to pick up his toys, and icily addressed me as “Mother.” I have no idea where he got that from and wasn’t expecting it for at least a few years.

And I’m not sure which is worse.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 7th, 2009 at 2:36 pm by Glinda and is filed under Ask Glinda, Celebrity Moms, Oh KID!, Parental Musings, That's Just Wrong. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.