busted.

my baby boy is eight.

for all you mothers out there, you know that even when your baby is eighty-eight, he'll still be your baby.  even with that old timer's drool hanging off his lip, he will be your baby.

most of us parents out there are bound, at one point or another, to endow our children with heartfelt nicknames.  from "pookie" to "knucklenuts", nicknames are part of growing up.

mine, for example. was pronounced "Air-ree"... we spelled it "Erie".  people would taunt me (*coughcougholderbrotherShinnycough*) by further calling me "Air-head."

sometimes i liked my nickname, other times (like when it turned to Airhead), i simply resented it.

my boy has about three solid nicknames.  by "solid" i mean... used frequently.  like every day.

e.

e.p.

e-machine. 

we like 'em.  he... well, not the last one, so much.

i tried to get him to agree it should be on the back of his practice football jersey.  he just about vomited.  i don't know why - i think it's totally cute.  and ferocious.  :)  he denied me the pleasure of seeing him wear it twice a week at practice.  instead, all that was printed was "H A M A K O."  

other kids went all out... "Tico," "The Flyer," "Waz-zay," "Dirty Red, Jr" ... we all wanted E-Machine.  and by "we" I mean... my man and I.

we were denied.

and i was ok with that, because i know just how much he loathed that nickname.

and then yesterday...

he was watching college football.  all of a sudden the t.v. was on pause and he was screaming for me to come see this... "YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!  I'm on T.V.!!!"

this is what i saw....

" E Michigan."

this is what he saw....

"E Machine."

i loved it.  i laughed so hard because he was so dang cute - he was so happy that he didn't even take the time to take a double take.  i fell onto my sofa, scooping up my babe and we had a grand ole' time laughing about his quick and un-trusty eye.  

{secretly though, i think he loves it.  call me crazy.}