Mommy… then Mom

Just now, before bed:


MAGGIE: You name Amy.
ME: That’s right.
MAGGIE: But I not call you Amy.
ME: No, you don’t. What do you call me?
MAGGIE: Mommy!
ME: That’s right.


Maggie nods to herself, now that she has set things right again.


MAGGIE: And Connor calls you Mom.


Huh. I had to stop and think about that. But by Jove, she’s right. Seven-year-old Connor calls me “Mom” now, not “Mommy,” and I can’t recall when that switch happened, but it has. It makes me a little bit sad. It’s the passing of an era. It goes to show how our kids grow up while we’re not looking.


The next time someone asks me how many kids I have and how old they are, I’m just going to say it like this: “I have two who call me ‘Mommy’ and one who calls me ‘Mom.’ ” Even if you’re not a parent yourself, I think you can still picture perfectly what that means.


And Maggie’s going to call me “Mommy” till she’s like, 25, if I have anything to do with it.