Call me Mommy. Please.

Obviously this is me, committing hara-kiri.

I’m not sure when it happened, but some time in the last week my three year old daughter was visited by her future self. I imagine they had a grand time playing together, giggling and laughing and learning.

Cupcake didn’t tell me directly, of course. I had to use some detective skill to determine whether she had enjoyed a secret tryst with her future self,  abducted by aliens or, obviously, the victim of a Freaky-Friday-style incident.

How do I know? Let me lay out the facts.

• Over the past week, we have seen a marked difference in the number of tantrums by Cupcake.  She is three years old, so this is obviously the work of some unnatural or external force.
• She has been downright patient with Geeklet, which is amazing, since my mother and I are ready to leave her out with the trash because she won’t stop crying god damnit.
• She has been pretty willing to do things like help throw her trash away, help clean her toys and get dressed in the morning.
• She keeps calling me out on things I’m not supposed to be doing. When did she learn the rules?
• She has started calling me “Mom” and EvilEmu (the artist formerly known as DaddyGeek) “Dad.”

Obviously her future teenage self shot back through time just like The Time Traveler and told her that the way to really get under our skin is to grow up too fast.

Seriously, there is nothing more disconcerting to me right now than my three year old daughter calling me “Mom” instead of “Mama” or “Mommy.”  I sort of feel like crying every single time she says it, which is OFTEN. She hasn’t called me Mommy in a week. I’m going through withdrawl or something. I am terrified for the future when she tries to call me by my first name. I might commit hara-kiri. (Sidenote: I’ve spent my entire life pronouncing that “Hairy Carey” which is clearly wrong. Why didn’t I ever question what that meant before?)