The Power to Name

For the past two days, my two-year-old son has insisted that he be called "Pablo." True story.  Whenever I slip up and actually use his birth-certificate name, he will say, "No. Pablo." He says it in such a tone as to imply that I am a mad fool for calling him such nonsense. Of course his name is Pablo. Wherever did I come up with this ridiculous "Max" word?

And while the natural assumption as to the cause of this mess is that he has been possessed by the ghost of a Venezuelan orphan child, he is also insisting on calling his mother, my wife, "Tyrone." Some might view this as further evidence of a complete break with reality, but I am reassured by the development, since it gives me another part of the causation puzzle. Because the only Tyrone both I and my son know personally (yes, personally. Don't ask.) is the moose from Backyardigans, and since one of that Moose's close friends happens to be a panic-prone penguin by the name of Pablo, I am able to lay to rest the "latin ghost" theory, and assume that my son is just "pretending."

All this seems like good news to me. The ability to force your own will on reality and creatively re-shape it to your liking is not only fun, but good mental exercise. Sure, some may think it the hallmark of a deranged mind, but I've long ignored those people.

The only truly distressing thing about all this is that the Backyardigan identity I have been assigned is that of the very girly hippo named Tasha. Really, by all rights, I should be Tyrone. But my wife took that one. And why not the kangaroo (I think he's a kangaroo) Austin? At least he's male. And if I absolutely have to be a girl, why not the alien-bug-indeterminate species thing that is Uniqua?

Feh. She claims otherwise, but I suspect that my wife had something to do with my new branding. Manipulating a child's imagination just to tease a spouse. Unseemly behavior, I tell you. Unseemly.

Comments

[the wife]

It was very pleasant this morning to wake to our toddler calling out, "Tasha! Tasha!" I was able to elbow my spouse and say, "That's you, honey."

[Uniqua]

Tasha was the only name left for you. Uniqua and Austin had already been assigned to others. I tried to take Tasha, really I did, but I was in the midst of an epic battle with Hacker, and a Motherboard can only do so much.

Please tell Pablo and Tyrone that Austin and I say hi.

[ashley]

oh, this blog is so delightful, tasha.

[Gretchen]

You know, Pablo isn't bad. Trying to explain why you keep calling your child "Dumbo" in the supermarket is terribly awkward. Or so my mom has always said.