12 May 2011


It's no secret, I am not exactly affectionate.  I'm more on the other end of the spectrum, you know the icy side.  Did I ever mention that my high school my friends called me Stone Cold Rone?  My poor husband I never call him sweetie, love, sweetheart, babe or whatever other sappy nicknames wives usually call their spouses.  I don't like people calling me other than my name, so I do the same to everyone.  Well, until the earthlings came along and I started using the sweetest terms of endearment with them.  All of the above and more, and I didn't even care if I was being cheesy.

Of the two, Aiden is the one that enjoys the sugary nicknames and even liked to be baby talked when littler.  He giggles when I call him my baby boo boo or sweetiepatootie.  Aiden also is the cariƱoso one who assaults me with hugs and kisses all day.  He has invented new kisses and hugs of his own like the gross tongue kiss (don't even ask), the fun volcano kiss and the genius flying hug while Skyping with daddy. 

This evening I called him sweetie at bedtime.

Aiden:  Mama, don't call me sweetie.

Me: You don't like it when I call you sweetie? I thought you liked it.

Aiden:  Just call me honey.