I am the Cheese

When Nooze was around 2 1/2, she decided to throw off the chains of oppression imposed upon her. Tired of the home-based hierarchy, she refused to call me Mommy, Mum or Momma. She wanted to call me by my first name.

It only happened a handful of times, as she learned that I clearly did not care for this. Still wanting to push the envelope, she changed her tactics. She turned it into a game.

"Momma", She would say, "Let's play! I'll be the Momma, You be the Hon". Then she would grin wickedly and, in a high pitched voice, squeal "Hi, Hon!" I would obligingly respond "Hi, Momma!"

After a while, the game was expanded into 'I'll be the (A), you be the (B)' - with (A) and (B) filled in with whatever struck her at the moment. I have been the Kool Aid to her Sugar, the Chicken to her Stapler (never mind).

One rainy Saturday, during a particularly grim trip to Wal-Mart, the game made a rather public debut. "I'm BORED, Momma", Nooze whined. "Let's play the Momma Hon game!" So we played within our normal terms, being Sneaker and Sock, Book and Paper, Candy and Soda.

We turned into the Ice Cream aisle, nearly finished with shopping and gaining on the check out with each step. Then Nooze said "You be the Cheese, I'll be the Cracker!" - immediately following in a high pitched voice with "HI, Cheese!" Laughing, I responded "Hi, CRACKER!"

At that precise moment, a well dressed businessman, who happened to be African-American, passed by. The utter look of confusion on his face made me nearly scream. It clearly said "Did she just call her kid a cracker?!"

It took every last ounce of restraint not to chase him down. In my mind, I was yelling "But you don't understand! I am the CHEESE!"