I’m listening to my kids play in their bedroom and I take notice as a I often do when I hear my daughter call my son by his name. His name is Caedmon, but many call him Caed for short. She has never called him that, it’s always been Caedmon. To be accurate, she really says, Caymun.
It made me think of my special relationship with my cousin Jamie growing up. We were best of buds and he called me Kal (still does) even though my name is Kelli. Not Kel but Kal. And never ever anything else. But even as a little kid I recognized it as something special. I wouldn’t let our other playmate cousin call me that.
When I was little I called my sister who’s name is Tamra, Tammer (sounds like hammer). My sister is very particular about how people say her name (because they always say or spell it wrong) but I was always allowed to say Tammer. Because I was her sis and that’s how I learned to say it. Now I just call her Tam.
Hearing my daughter say, Caymun, always makes me smile (unless she’s screaming it in an all out fit) because it reminds me of their special relationship. With that one word I can have flash backs of them in diapers and her waddling butt crawling after him as he disappears into his room. Or them pushing little plastic chairs around the kitchen table together.
I love that my kiddos are buds. It’s my prayer that they always stay close and that she’ll call him Caymun for many years to come.

