It used to be, not too long ago, that Griffin called everything in sight "Daddy." It was one of his first words. Daddy was called Daddy, Dudley the dog was called Daddy, the car, the couch, everything was called Daddy. And me...well, I was called Daddy too.
I was hurt...I was jealous! I grew the kid for 9 months inside me with all the kicking and jabbing that came with it, squeezed the large kid out of a none to large hole, fed the kid from my own breasts, nurtured, loved, cried over...and he has the nerve to call me Daddy! Sure, there was the occasional "Mama" that squeaked it's way out, but 9 times out of 10, just call me Daddy.
So I formulated a plan, and with Steve's help I set out to bring the word "Mama" solidly into his vocabulary.
After much hard work, there seems to be a change in the tide. Griffin has a FIRM grasp on the word "Mama," and know how much I love to hear it (and knows how much he can get me to do for him when he looks at me with his big blue eyes.) Our plan has worked!
Until last night...when my plan backfired. Griffin woke at midnight, as per usual, crying his mighty cry. Steve sat up at the edge of the bed, preparing to go upstairs, as this is usually "his shift." I love his shift - I stay warm and snuggly in bed, he calms the screaming child. As Steve got ready to stand, upstairs the crying paused, and then clear as a bell we both heard a very loud "Mama??" Steve looked at me, smirked, laid back down and said "he wants you." He snuggled back in and (still smirking) closed his eyes.
Backfire. Big time!
So much for my fancy plan!