For as long as I can remember, nicknames have been a way to show affection and familial familiarity. I think maybe my grandfather started it... He called us all "Lemuel". Or "Lemmie". Don't ask. I have no idea. My father called us "Munchkins". I do know where that came from! I called my baby sister "Chickie" or "Chicken". And then I had my own children...
Sofi: Her first name was Cricket. That child had hiccups for nearly nine straights months in utero. My belly hopped around like a Mexican Jumping Bean while she trampolined off every internal organ.
And then we called her Chickie. Or Chicken. Because I was still figuring out how to transition from Big Sister to Mama and it seemed appropriate to call her the same pet name I used for my First Baby-- my little sister, Tess. Who was really my third baby anyway, because Sam and Polly were my babies, too, really. And besides, she squawked and chirped with her hungry mouth opened wide, just like a baby chickie....
Judah: Oh my that boy had the bluest baby blues... and so we called him Judah Blue. Judah Blue Eyed Boy.
And the fat rolls!! We called him Judah Buddha. His Aunt Polly, Queen of Fat Rolls herself, once upon a longlong time ago, gave him that name. And Sofi started calling him just "Buddha" The chiropracter tentatively asked me one day... "Is his name...Buddha? Is that it?" And I laughed and laughed....
His mama still calls him My White-Headed Boy, because he is. And sometimes Scooter, because he did-- for the longest time. And his daddy calls him Buddy, and Little Man.
And now there's Jamie. And he has four people who all make up their own nicknames for him.
Jo-jo (because of his inititals)
Jamie-Jo, My Subito...