I’ve been told that I am no longer allowed to use any of my favorite pet names for Charlie, such as “Char-Char,” “Snugglelicious,” “Scrumptious-Umptious,” “Boodoo-udu,” “Snuggle Bunny,” or “Bud-a-boo.”

He says to me, “I won’t be able to make it in life, Mom, if you keep calling me those ridiculous names. You have to stop. No more of that (even if you’re whispering it) out in public and because it’s a very bad habit, you can’t do it at home anymore, either. I know you…you’ll slip and say one of those awful names in front of some stranger or a person I know at school.”

I say, “Really? All that snuggle loving is done…because you’re almost nine?”

Charlie says, “Yep. Except you can still scratch my back at night.”

I say, “I remember when Max insisted I stop calling him Maxter Jackster and Chloe said no more to Chloe Bo.”

I go on to say, “These are love-names. These are names that show my adoration and love for you.”

Charlie says, “Too babyish.”

I say, “I have love names for lots of people, people who aren’t even my own children. There’s Saar-Bear, Gwinnie-Winnie, Hannah Banana and even in college I called my best friend, Marcy, Marcykins.”

Charlie says, “You did that kind of thing in college? You have a real problem, Mom.”

(This coming from a boy who, daily, calls our dog, “Simoneee-Roo-Roo-Poo.”)