Tomato

"There were those who called Magorium a genius. My Mom called him eccentric. And this one guy from Detroit inexplicably called him 'Steve.'" -- Eric, Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium. (Best movie ever).

I have a new nickname for Oliver. It's tomato. Just, tomato. The poor kid gets so red in the face when trying to poop or fart, so Bushel-Boy red in his little perfectly round face. Tomato.

I wrote that sentence about 6 weeks ago and failed to finish that blog entry; I probably got distracted with needing to hook up my IV meds or something. I am healthier and finishing what I started. We still call Ollie Tomato. But I have to laugh at the fact that I described Oliver's face as "little" and "perfectly round." Have you seen a picture of him recently?!

His first nickname, with which he was christened in the womb, was Ollie. When Oliver was under consideration as a potential name for our son, along came an ER episode which featured the character of a physician who worked at County General many years ago. The character's name was Oliver, and I watched as William H. Macy's character referred to him as "Ollie." I was sold. Michael used to shake his head at my insistence that a good name should have a good nickname as well. "Just call the kid what you named him," he would say. Mmm hmm. Right. Which is why he calls Oliver "Buddy Bear."

One look at this favorite hat of ours and Michael ceased protesting nicknames. The hat, with little ears on top, says "My Buddy" on the rim. The name of Buddy Bear continues. The hat does not. This picture was not taken yesterday.

Nicknames are funny in how they come about. A friend of mine has a dog-in-law whose name is Stella. Stella's human parents began calling her Stella Bear. Which then turned in to "Telly Bear." "Stella" to "Telly Bear." Only, I am told, it is important to keep in mind that it is said with an over-emphasised baby accent - phonetically, "telly bay-oh."

And while we're on the subject of animals, I have a confession. In my own endearing baby-talk, I have slipped and called Oliver "Liesel," (the cat). And occasinally I have praised him as a "good girl," (also the cat). I felt better about this and more able to publically admit my folly when my sister came to visit and nearly called Oliver "Rudy" on several occaions (yes, her cat). At least she got the gender right.

There will come a day, all too quickly, when Oliver will protest his nicknames. Roll his eyes. Refuse to answer when called anything other than the name he likes best. But he just might thank me when he is looking for a sweet street name and discovers that I already have one picked out, and that I had been calling him "Lil' Ollie Pop" since the day he was born.