When my kids got to the preteen/teen phase of life they needed some gentle reminders that mom was still in charge. And, because each of my children are wired differently, I accomplished this in a unique way for each one.
For my son, it meant changing his name frequently. Here’s what I mean:
Whenever my son would launch into a long-winded narrative about how right he was and how wrong I was, I would interrupt him midsentence and say, “I’ve decided to change your name, you will hereafter be known as Bebo.”
The first time I did this, he looked at me in shock and said, “You can’t do that.” I responded with a smile and said, “I’m your mom, I can do anything.” I then proceeded to call him nothing but Bebo for the rest of the day. It completely derailed whatever he was crabby about.
It turned into quite a joke between us. We began searching for the most unique names we could find to call each other. Both film buffs, foreign films became a treasure trove of new names. At the end of a film, each of us would yell out names we saw in the credits before the other could, “You’re Allister Higgenbottom!” “Well, you’re Ingemar Luktvasslimo!”
It was admittedly a strange way to bond, but it worked, and we had a blast doing it.
My son is grown now and lives clear across the United States. I called him the other day to tell him that my laptop was broken and to get his advice on buying a new one. He told me he would do some research and get back to me.
The next day, a box appeared on my porch. It contained a beautiful new laptop. I thought there must have been some mistake, so I checked the mailing label. It was addressed to “MARISKA HARGITAY”.
There was no mistake. It was mine and I knew exactly who had sent it.
{Did you know that there are about 72 names for God in the Bible? Two, he called himself and the rest were given to him by people trying to describe who He is and what He meant to them.}
