Mummy! Daddy! Let’s be honest. Before you had kids, you probably had a perfectly normal, adult relationship with your own name. You answered to it. You signed documents with it. You might even have (gasp!) liked it. Then, a tiny human with disproportionately large eyes and an insatiable desire to touch everything entered your life, and suddenly, your carefully curated identity began to unravel.

The first few months are a blur of “goo-goo-ga-ga” and “who’s a cute wittle baby?” You’re “Mummy” or “Daddy,” and life is relatively simple. But then, it happens. That glorious, terrifying moment when your little sprout starts stringing words together. And with those words comes the imminent threat to your personal nomenclature.

You might think, “Oh, how sweet! My child will learn my name and call me by it!” Bless your innocent, pre-toddler-brain heart. You are living in a dream. A beautiful, naive dream that will soon be shattered by the relentless, often embarrassing, truth of toddler linguistics.

 

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Here’s why you should never tell your toddler your real name, illustrated with cautionary tales from the front lines of parenthood:

1. The Public Identity Crisis (Yours, Not Theirs):
Imagine this: You’re at the supermarket, navigating the treacherous waters of the frozen food aisle with your toddler strapped into the cart. They’ve just discovered the joy of pointing and shouting. Suddenly, they bellow, with the unbridled enthusiasm of a town crier, “LOOK, BOLAJI! THAT MAN HAS A FUNNY NOSE!”

BOLAJI! Yes, that’s your name. And now, thanks to your little human megaphone, everyone within a 20-foot radius knows it. And they’re all looking at you. And the man with the (possibly not that funny) nose is definitely looking at you. You try to shush them, to whisper, “No, sweetie, that’s Mummy,” but it’s too late. The damage is done. Your anonymity, once a comforting cloak, has been ripped away by a tiny tyrant who thinks your name is just another word to test out at maximum volume.

Humorous Example: My friend, a perpetually exhausted but endlessly patient dad named Dayo, once found himself in a particularly crowded lift. His two-year-old, captivated by an elderly woman’s bright purple hat, suddenly declared, “DAYO! THAT LADY’S HEAD LOOKS LIKE A GRAPE!” The entire lift erupted in stifled laughter, and Dayo seriously considered taking the stairs for the rest of his life.

 

2. The Inconvenient Truth Bomb: Toddlers have a charming lack of filter. They say what they see, what they hear, and often, what they think they hear. If you’ve ever had a whispered adult conversation interrupted by a toddler loudly repeating a mildly inappropriate word they thought they heard, you know what I mean. Now, apply that to your name.

If your name is, say, “Bartholomew,” and your toddler struggles with the “th” sound, you might find yourself being called “Bart-uh-loo-moo” at inopportune moments. Which is fine in the privacy of your home. Less so when you’re introducing yourself to your new boss.

Humorous Example: A colleague, whose name is the rather elegant “Genevieve,” told me about a harrowing experience at her child’s daycare open house. Her three-year-old, beaming with pride, marched up to a group of bewildered parents and declared, “THIS IS MY MOMMY, GENIE-WEE! SHE FARTED A BIG ONE THIS MORNING!” Apparently, “Genevieve” had been trying to teach her daughter to say “Genie, we are going to the park,” and the toddler had creatively interpreted the “we” sound.

 

3. The Unintentional Demotion:
There’s a certain gravitas, a parental authority, that comes with being “Mummy” or “Daddy.” It’s a title that evokes warmth, comfort, and the ability to find lost toys even when they’re “nowhere.” But when your child starts calling you by your first name, that carefully constructed hierarchy can crumble faster than a sandcastle in a tsunami.

Suddenly, you’re not the benevolent dictator of bedtime; you’re just… [Your Real Name]. It’s a subtle shift, but one that can lead to moments where your child looks at you with a newfound familiarity, as if you’re just another peer who might be convinced to share their biscuits.

Humorous Example: My cousin, whose daughter started calling him “Mark” around age two, noticed a distinct change in her compliance levels. One evening, after he’d told her it was bedtime, she crossed her arms, looked him dead in the eye, and retorted, “No, Mark. You go to bed.” He’s been “Daddy” ever since.

 

4. The Gateway to Calling Other Adults By Their First Names:
If your toddler learns your real name, it’s only a matter of time before they decide that everyone has a “real name” that they should use. Your neighbour, your child’s teacher, the nice lady at the library – all fair game for the first-name treatment. While endearing in some contexts, it can lead to awkward introductions and confused glances.

Humorous Example: My aunt, Mrs. Henderson, a formidable retired school principal, was once addressed by her grandson’s friend as “Brenda.” She nearly had a conniption. Her grandson, bless his cotton socks, had simply observed his parents calling her “Brenda” and assumed it was open season on adult names.

 

The Solution? Embrace the Moniker!

So, what’s a parent to do? The answer is simple: embrace your destiny. You are Mummy. You are Daddy. These are your battle names, your sacred titles. Guard them fiercely. When a well-meaning relative tries to teach your child your given name, subtly deflect. Change the subject. Distract with a shiny object.

Because in the grand tapestry of parenthood, your real name is a secret best kept from the tiny humans who hold your heart (and occasionally, your sanity) in their sticky little hands. They’ll find out eventually, of course. Probably when they’re teenagers and want to annoy you.

But until then, revel in the unshakeable authority of “Mummy” and the comforting warmth of “Daddy.” Your real name can wait. Your peace of mind (and public dignity) cannot.