Several days ago, my daughter, in her recently minted 8-year-old glory, informed me I was no longer “Daddy.” Instead, my name was to be “Cookie.”
Now, while I do bake an incredibly fantastic chocolate chip cookie (I have this on the authority of both immediate family and in-laws), I’m not sold on being called Cookie. The little goddess was, of course, unfazed by my reluctance.
Tonight, while she, her mom and I were having ice cream treats at a local shop, she told me I was getting an “upgrade” in my name.
“No,” she immediately corrected myself when I told her that didn’t sound like a good name to me, “You’re Cookie Cupcake Hairylegs!”
I fail to see how any of this is an improvement.