Why do nicknames dig in their heels and refuse to leave us alone? We are full of them around our place. My lovely wife is Frommy. Don’t ask how that happened. My son has a nickname, too, as does his sister, and they’d kill me if I told you what they are and the info leaked to their friends.
My extended family has been nickname-happy since the beginning of time. Sonny. Ziggy. BaBa. Rah Rah. I bet you’ve got a nickname yourself, like it or not. Doesn’t matter. Once it happens, it’s done. You might as well put it on your driver’s license.
So, as much as I’d like to be Dad, I have to be OK with the name I hear around the house. And I’d prefer it stay confined to that space.