Naming Conventions

Two social faux pas from me yesterday.

These faux pas have to do with the over use of endearing terms and pet names for children and other loved ones. I will describe the offenses to you in the order with which they occurred.

Offense Number 1: Schmoo

I was on the phone with Wifey, and I ended the phone call with “I love you too, Schmoo.” I had to explain multiple time and in various ways to the 3 people sitting near me at the time, what the Hell Schmoo meant. The etymology of this particular incarnation of the word “Schmoo” is not that difficult a story to follow. Back in college, we started making fun of couples with pet names for each other by ending our questions to each other with a direct address to each other that consisted of whatever the last word of the phrase was but we replced the beginning sound with “Schm.” For example, “Where ya going, Schmoing?” or “Could you pass the ketchup, Schmetchup?” The most used, how ever, was “Whacha doin, Schmooin?” This was a question asked by either of us to each other for a long, long time. It became second nature to end the question “Whatcha doin?” with “Schmooin.” Over the course of several years “Schmooin” later evolved to simply “Schmoo” mainly due to my inherent laziness. At that point the term of endearment stuck. Please, do not think that the irony that we call each other “Schmoo” as a pet name is lost on us. Our whole use of “Schmoo” is a horrible accident in irony. We are well aware of the implications of our use of the word as a term of endearment when it was derived from us attempting to demean other sappy relationships. Our whole relationship has been built on the love that can only be generated by making fun of others. This is definitely a relationship that will last.

Offense Number 2: Punkin

Last night at the very same playground that Little Man had his adventures in puddle jumping on Friday, I used a term of endearment/pet name one too many times when referring to Little Man. Little Man was interacting with this other kid while playing on the big 2-story spiral slide, when I noticed that the 3 year old boy playing with Little Man referred to my little boy as “Pumpkin.” Okay, back story time… Thanksgiving Day 2002 is when we found out that we were pregnant with the Little Man. Since that day he has often been referred to as “Punkin Pie.” Indeed, as I am sure you have guessed, my inherent laziness has shortened this down to simply “Punkin.” Now we continually refer to the Little Man as “Punkin Pie,” “Punkin Lunkin,” and “Punk.” I guess when I was telling Little Man that he should continue climbing the slide’s stairs because there were kids behind him, that he should be careful where he pours out buckets of dirt, that he should wait for me to get near him before he attempts to climb a ladder, that etc… I was constantly referring to him soley as “Punkin.” Eventually, the 3-year old playing with Little Man assumed his name was “Pumpkin.” That is most definitely a sound logical assumption, and honestly pretty close to being more correct than the name on his birth certificate. We probably call Little Man “Punkin” at least 5 times as much as the name on his birth certicicate. Let’s be clear though, we still call him “Punkin Pie,” and we probably always will. I mean, who doesn’t like pumpkin pie?

To recap:
Irony…. IRONY!!!!
For those of you who have submitted questions, they have been saved and will be addressed during times of lack of topic
Most likely tomorrow
Mmmm Punkin Pie!
Wifey, can you make me some of those pumpkin bars?