Another day for the ole' Pixie Loogie.
    (Now for those of you who may be wondering about that name, let me clarify.)
     I was a practicum student at a preschool a couple years ago and had already decided that I wanted the kids to call me Mrs. Hooge. It was terribly cute as the kids fumbled around with the name on my first day. Trying to help them out, I started telling them that "it rhymes with Boogie!" This, of course, caused an uproar which led to laughter everywhere. A good start, or so I thought.
     Upon arriving the second day, one of the teachers asked all the students if they remembered who I was. One brave little girl, who stuck to me like glue the previous day, piped up and shouted, "HER NAME IS MRS. PIXIE LOOGIE!"
     I could have died of silent laughter, if there ever was such a thing.
     And so the name is now mine, though I seldom ever hear it used.
     Nicknames are a funny thing. My husband and I have given my daughter at least a million--my husband contributing two and the rest are mine. Names like Sweet Cheeks, Belly-Boo, Skoochy-Toots, and Hunger Monkey. Flattering, I know.
     However, with a mother like me, there are bound to be some crazy titles. I used to call my brother Sparky Spuluke. And my sister was bestowed the blessing of Tinky-Fartser-Roozers or Spufflelarney. Strange but oh, so endearing. My siblings are used to it by now.
     Even my husband and I have nicknames for one another. If you call us Phyllis, Willis, or Millicent Bystander, we will respond. Chicka Baloo is also on the list.
     Maybe I became the creative one because I was given the most ridiculous nickname as a child. My parents called my brother Bubba. My sister was Kare-bears. And me? Pumpkin Bum. PUMPKIN BUM? I don't even want to know where they got that one. And no, I can assure you that my bum does not resemble a jack o' lantern.
     I guess a little creativity can go a long way.                                 :)