K Doesn't Like My Nomenclature

I have a tendency to call my son a crackhead. He's 16 months old and the name is fairly appropriate, not because he actually takes crack, I'm not sure he could find the local dealers if he wanted to, but because he's a seemingly endless pit of energy.

Actually, considering the locale in which we live, Meth Head would be a more appropriate moniker, but, but it doesn't have the same ring. Cocaine is the current fad at the high school level, but, again, Cocaine Head just sounds stupid. E's nickname remains Crackhead by default.

There was a time, long ago, when K joined in with the Crackhead-calling enthusiastically, but yesterday she got onto me for calling him that because he's starting to understand us and saying his first poorly enunciated words that aren't "mama," "dada," "Bubba," or "duck." Bubba's our dog, by the way. Personally, I don't plan on stopping. This is hardly emotional abuse. I only call E that when I'm happy and kids tend to read body language more than the words themselves, especially if they've grown up with the words in a positive connotation. It's the same reason my sister and I never felt unwanted when my dad told us to go play in traffic. People don't read crap into harmless comments until they're old enough to be too clever for their own good.

So I will continue to call E a crackhead and some overly proper woman one day will be shocked when a tiny child walks up to her and says, "I'm a crackhead!" That will totally make irritating K for two years worth it.