KidPosted: January 7, 2013
In my last post, I briefly touched on the fact that my Dad calls everyone “kid.” It is usually used for us “kids” my cousins, and our childhood friends. If someone else is called this, it most likely means that he doesn’t remember your name, but that’s another story.
When we were little, we would make long trips to the suburbs of Chicago fairly regularly. My Aunt and Uncle lived there with their two sons. I went every summer from the time I was 7 until I was about 13 for a week on my own to spend with them. Then my sister did, and then after Mack was born, and I was a working mom, my parents began to take Mack with them, while I stayed home and worked.
Sometimes these summer trips resulted in one of the cousins coming back with my parents to spend a week with us. The summer that Mack was two they brought the older of the two boys back with them. Five and a half our car trip. Mack was not amused by my cousin. She supposedly had hidden from everyone the entire trip, and was only good for my Mom and Dad. She wouldn’t make eye contact, wouldn’t give snuggles, wouldn’t play, was kind of bratty two-year old the entire weekend. Then again, she probably didn’t remember these people who were suffocating her, so in a way I don’t blame her.
My Dad in his normal fashion, was calling my cousin “Kid.”
He was over the moon for Mack. In a slightly odd way for a then thirteen-year-old boy, but he was.
So Mack started ordering my cousin around.
And so on.
Not just for the rest of the trip, but for the rest of his life. My cousin will be “Kid” until I am dead. I think he really hates it now that he is almost 32 that not only does Mack still call him this, and of course my Dad, but that I call him “Kid,” as does my Mom, my sister, our husbands, Mack and all the other little kids STILL call him KID.
That’s the breaks. Sometimes a two-year-old will give you a nickname, and you are stuck with it.