Today I found out that “Poppy,” the name I call my dad, came from me.
Makes sense, since I was the first kid, but I hadn’t thought of it much. Supposedly, my parents wanted to call my dad something other than “Dad.” So they went with “Pop.” But since babies have trouble saying what they hear (or maybe just because I didn’t like the short version), I changed it to “Poppy.”
So there you have it (it’s a fact now that it’s published online).
Anyway, all this talk made me consider what my kids will call me. I’m not a fan of “Dad” either (no offense, Dads), but I also don’t want to steal back “Poppy.”
So I came up with something a little more… mafia/food influenced:
“Popperoni.”
Yeah, you can be sure I won’t be the one who falls for it when some smart alec in a crowd yells, “Hey, Dad!.”
