Babe

Every sweet southern couple has a nickname for each other. My Godparents refer to each other as “Love”. My auntie will shouts from the kitchen “Love, do you want tea with honey or sugar?” and my uncle would affectionately reply “honey is just fine, Love.”                          An old pastor of mine use to say his wife called him “honeydew” , because she would always say honey do this and honey do that.

My husband calls me baby and over the years it has been shortened to just BABE. I’m completely ok with that. Sometimes I wonder if he knows my government name at all. Now that my son is learning to talk and we’re teaching him words and phrases like ‘uh-oh’, ‘no’, & ‘thank you’. You would assume that mommy and daddy would be a given.

Not my kid. My husband calls me so much that my son now stands in the middle of the room and shouts for me calling for NOT Mommy, NOT Jen, ,but BABE!

All down the hallway, though the kitchen, into the living room the little fella follows me around going “Babe, babe, Babe, Babe…” Like Stewie Griffin on the Family Guy. I try to correct him, but it seems pointless. As soon as he goes back to calling me mommy, my hubby ask me another question and the babe cycle starts all over again.

 

 

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