The Apple and the Tree

Jennifer is a very common name for my age group. Apparently, there was some book or something that helped it rise in popularity. And while I now mostly go by "Jenn" to those who are closest to me, I vehemently opposed being called anything short of my full three-syllable mouthful when I was growing up.

I will never forget when I was in Mrs. Bell's first grade class. There were four of us named Jennifer, and someone needed to take on a shorter version of "Fair Lady" in order to make our teacher's life easier. I immediately raised my hand and said, "My name is Jennifer. Period." From then until I went off to college, no one dared call me anything other than the full J-E-N-N-I-F-E-R for fear being on the receiving end of my Gemini wrath. Of course, when I flew from the nest for the first time, I not only changed my haircolor and the number of holes in my body, but also shortened my name. Little did I know that EVERYONE who was formerly Jennifer now goes by Jenn as well. However, that is neither here nor there.

For anyone who ever doubted whether or not history repeats itself, you need not look any further than my blue-eyed mini-me.

On the way home from running an errand the other day, I addressed my oldest by the name "Bells", something I have been doing for quite a while. Rather than respond to my question, she asked me, "Why do you call me Bells?" I answered by telling her that it was my special name for my special girl.

I was promptly corrected and put in my place.

"Mommy," she said with an exacerbated sigh, "My name is NOT Bells. It is I-SA-BEL-LA (carefully enunciating each syllable). THAT is my special name and THAT is what you need to call me."

I couldn't help but laugh and agree with her. The apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree, does it!

Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama